


like a lost astronaut

by climbhigher



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Polyamory, Post s2 finale, sorry if my octaven heart shines through i really tried to make them Platonic, very minor monty/miller and lincoln/octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/climbhigher/pseuds/climbhigher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Octavia exhales deeply, looking from Raven, whose hand is clenched at her side, to her brother. “Neither of you is going to like this.” Bracing herself for their reaction, she continues. “We need to get Lexa.” </i> </p><p>or 'there's trouble at camp Jaha so Octavia and Raven ask Lexa for help to go look for Clarke'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this after the season 2 finale so it completely ignores season 3 canon for better or worse  
> a billion thanks to sherley for editing this and helping me finish in 84 years instead of 85  
> title is from moondust by jaymes young

“We _need_ Clarke.” Octavia’s voice is strained, her eyes insistent as they stare into Bellamy’s determined ones.

“And I’m telling you she doesn’t _want_ to be here.”

The tone of his voice betrays his mounting frustration, but he is desperate to avoid a fight with his sister. The atmosphere is already too tense around Camp Jaha, conflict growing heavy in the air, insidious since the fall of Mount Weather.

After the victory, there had been a time for celebration, a time for reunions, but that time had been short lived, had given way to unrest when the news of the Grounders’ betrayal and Clarke’s departure had spread.

The split had been gradual, slowly dividing the survivors of the Ark into two factions: some, unable to accept the slight, wanted to lead an attack against the Grounders; others, aware of the weakened state of the Sky forces, felt that it was unwise, or unnecessary,  to go against them. The situation was still escalating, and the council had been forced into a discussion, but no solution was coming of it.

“It’s not about what she wants, Bellamy.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Back me up on this, Monty,” Octavia pleads, turning to look at her friend.

“She’s right. If we want to stop these people from making a very stupid decision, we need Clarke,” Monty says looking at Bellamy, apologetic. “They might not all agree with what we did,” he continues, lowering his eyes as the words come out, “but they still think of her as a leader.”

Bellamy’s hand comes up to run through his hair, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “We don’t even know where to look for her.”

“There’s a bunker,” Raven speaks up, “somewhere near the old camp. Finn took her there a couple of times. It has some supplies, provides shelter, it would be a good place to start.” 

Octavia glances at her, traces of concern in her eyes. A month has passed since Clarke left, and most resentment has dissipated from their minds. The battle won, Octavia had mourned more than her losses, and her shed innocence had paved the way to understanding. The thought of Clarke unable to face them, guilt too heavy on her shoulders for even goodbyes, had softened their anger, compassion creeping its way in, but even now, Finn was still a sensitive subject.

“You can’t go alone,” Bellamy answers.

“I’ll go with her,” Monty cuts in before Raven can answer. “Nathan can come too.” They exchange a knowing look before Miller nods.

Harper glances at Bellamy, turns away when he shakes his head imperceptibly. “Raven,” she starts, ignoring Bellamy’s pointed stare, “you should know there’s a… body. In the bunker. A grounder. We took him there to interrogate him. Finn he…”

“That still doesn’t solve the fact that Clarke does not _want_ to be here.” Bellamy interrupts, sounding increasingly aggravated. “And what are you going to do if she’s not in the bunker?”

Octavia exhales deeply, looking from Raven, whose hand is clenched at her side, to her brother. “Neither of you is going to like this.” Bracing herself for their reaction, she continues. “We need to get Lexa.” She sees their mouths open, raises her hand in a silencing motion before they can protest. “I know. But she has equipment, and horses, and far better tracking skills than any of us.”

All of them fall silent, matching frowns on Raven and Bellamy. After a moment, Octavia picks up again, all eyes on her.

“That’s not all. Even if we can convince Clarke to come back, there’s no guarantee they’ll listen to her. We need her to show she’s made peace with what Lexa did.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Right, like that’s going to happen.” Octavia glares at him, and his eyes soften perceptibly.

“How about you let me worry about that, Bell?” Straightening up, she turns to the group. “Raven, you show Monty and Miller to the bunker. I’m going to go talk to Lincoln; I’ll leave for Polis at dawn.”

“And what are you going to tell Lexa?” Bellamy pushes. Looking to Raven for support, he finds her staring at Octavia with an undecipherable expression. “How do you even know they’re going to let you into the city?”

“We are not at war anymore. They might not be our allies, but they are not our enemies either. If anything, Lexa will take this opportunity to make things right.” Octavia’s voice is unwavering, and she is already moving towards her tent. “I’ll talk to her, and if all goes well, I’ll have a horse and someone who knows these woods. We should have no problem finding Clarke.”

Bellamy follows after her, disapproval etched across his features, and Raven catches up to them quickly, stepping in front of Octavia to block her path.

“I’m coming with you.”

“To Polis? Why would you want to go there? You hate the Grounders.” Octavia’s expresion shifts between confusion and annoyance.

“No. I’m coming with you to look for Clarke.” Raven’s tone leaves no room for questions, her eyes set on Octavia’s.

“Raven I don’t mean to be rude, but…” She makes a vague gesture toward Raven’s brace.

Raven huffs, hand itching to stomp her cane on Octavia’s foot. “You said Lexa would provide horses. Bring me one, and let me do the rest.”

“You’re aware that your skills piloting a spaceship do not translate to horse-riding, right?” Octavia points out.

“It can’t be _that_ hard, you got the hang of it pretty quick. I’m sure you can teach me. Unless you don’t think you’re up to the task.”

“We don’t have time for this, Raven. Why do you even want to come?” Octavia crosses her arms and looks Raven up and down, making her fidget under her stare.

“Come on, I can be useful.” She laughs nervously.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Her eyes are still boring insistently into Raven’s.

“Look, you’re going to need as many friendly faces as possible if you want to convince Clarke. _Somehow_ , I don’t think Lexa’s is gonna cut it.” Her words are dripping with sarcasm, and the corners of Octavia’s mouth lift briefly. “Bellamy needs to stay here to maintain whatever semblance of peace we’ve got going on,” Raven continues, “Jasper is still sulking. Monroe is still hurt. Monty and Harper have no field training, and Nathan is not leaving without Monty, whatever that’s about.” Her hands are gesturing wildly around the camp, as if pointing out their friends as she mentions them. “I’m your only choice, here, Pocahontas.” She breaks out into a smile. “And my face is very friendly.”

“Fine,” Octavia cuts, and Raven has to temper her smile to avoid irritating her further.” You can come. Just please stop talking.”

Raven stops walking, raises her fingers to her mouth and makes a zipping motion. Octavia rolls her eyes, opening up the flap of her tent before calling out, back to Raven. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

 

***

 

Octavia heads out at first light, a map tucked securely into the waist of her armor and Lincoln’s directions fresh in her mind, while Camp Jaha is still asleep. He’d offered to be a part of the trip, and Octavia had had to remind him of his current status with the grounders. The ride there would be easier with him by her side, but she could never agree to put his safety at risk just for that. Even if he had decided to accompany her only up to Polis, as he offered to, any unplanned encounters before the city limits would have sealed his fate.

Bellamy’s doubts remain. They are written across the tight lines of his forehead, but he doesn’t share them, hugs Octavia tightly to his chest and whispers words meant only for her ears. He, better than anyone, knows the importance of unity, of loyalty, in the face of conflict, and he sets aside his hesitancy to help shoulder the weight.

Standing before them, Octavia doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, only promises to be back at the soonest, and Raven tries not to think _may we meet again_ , ignores the dread pulling at her insides as she watches Octavia walk into the forest.

They leave soon after, Nathan and Monty following in Raven’s steps, and the short walk to the bunker is mostly silent, occasional small talk cut short by the tension still prevailing during forays into the scarcely familiar woods.

The sun is high above their heads when Raven pulls open the heavy trap door hidden underneath intertwining vines and fast growing moss. They lower themselves into the room, while Nathan stands guard, and the first thing Raven notices is that there is no body. The shape of it is still visible, and she scrapes her shoe against the dried blood on the floor, mapping the spatter of a gunshot, her hands shaking at her side.

Her eyes burn when Monty rests his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. “It’s okay,” he says, voice soothing. Her throat feels tight, so she doesn’t look at him, but he stands there anyway, quiet and comforting at her side.

“Clarke has been here,” she says after a few seconds, wiping at her cheeks. “It’s not just the missing dead Grounder.” Walking around the room, she picks up an empty box. “She took some supplies. Blankets, flashlights, maybe some art stuff, I’m not sure.”

Monty’s eyes on her are unsettling, and she lets out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know why she didn’t stay here. Nothing but happy memories.” She keeps rummaging through the boxes, tries not to think of Clarke, alone with her guilt, going through the same motions in order to find something.

“Do you really think Clarke could be swayed by your presence?” Monty pries with soft eyes and his head tilted to the side.

Raven stills for a moment. “I don’t know, do you think Nathan would’ve come here today if you hadn’t?” There’s a faint blush on Monty’s cheeks as he lowers his eyes slightly, avoiding Raven’s accusing stare.

She drops the plastic box in her hands, turning back to look at Monty who is now twisting a crayon between his fingers. Exhaling sharply, she drops the hint of aggression in her voice to answer his previous question. “I just…” Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth. “need to see her. Talk to her, whatever.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, “you don’t need to explain.”

“I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.” The words are mumbled under her breath, meant for no one in particular, especially not herself, but Monty’s sympathetic smile indicates that he heard them, and Raven feels a little lighter when she climbs back up the ladder into the green of the forest.

On the way back, she sees Monty’s hand brush against Nathan’s periodically, and she rolls her eyes, but the smile she sends his way when he falls back to walk with her is genuine. So is his, temporarily unmarred by the ghosts of Mountain Men or the threat of things to come, and for now at least, Raven feels a spark of hope.

 

***

 

The North-East gates are as imposing as Octavia imagined them, thick wooden spikes tied together into a double door, one of three entrances through the tall fence going on for miles around Polis. The path that leads up to them is wide and mostly cleared of plants, leaving her exposed as she walks toward the city. Four warriors are standing guard, and though Octavia can’t see them, she knows archers are watching from the trees, strings drawn back and ready to fire at the first sign of hostility.

She doesn’t know what of her story has made it to their ears, doesn’t know if the tales of the Sky people are shared around meals in Trigedasleng too fast for her to understand or if stories of war die where conflict ends, but she stands straight, gait making up for the pounding in her chest. She stops in front of the guards, eyes set on the one that steps forward to meet her, palm on the pommel of his sword.

“ _Ai laik Okteivia_ ,” she offers, “ _kom Skaikru_ ” added as an afterthought. “ _En ai gaf shish yu Heda op._ ” Her voice is steady, the hands at her sides relaxed in what she hopes is taken as a desire for peace.

Looking around at the other guards, the man lets out a loud laugh before turning back to face Octavia. He steps closer to her, studying her intently before drawing his sword, pressing it to the side of her neck, resting it against her collarbone.

“And why would the Commander want to talk to you, _Okteivia kom Skaikru_?” He sneers at her.

“I have an offer to make,” she answers, motionless against the blade.

“And why,” the sword presses harder against her skin, a droplet of blood running along the edge toward his hand, “would Heda Lexa be interested in an offer from a _Skaikru_ outsider?”

A sudden swooshing sound reaches Octavia’s ears, coming from the trees to her left, and she hears her voice before she can spot her.

“ _Pul we._ ” Indra walks fast, bow in hand, until she reaches Octavia’s side.

The blade is immediately withdrawn from her neck, sheathed at his side as he takes a step back, silently handing the reins to his superior. Indra turns to stand before Octavia, her bearing as unbending and unreadable as she remembers it.

“Octavia,” she says, accentuating every syllable. “You are alive,” she appraises, no hint of emotion in her voice. “You should not be here.”

Neither of them moves an inch, staring each other down for a moment. “I want to talk to the Commander,” Octavia breaks the silence, “I only ask that she hear me out, and if my proposition is not to her liking, I will leave.”

Indra stays silent, studying her face with dark eyes, and Octavia raises her chin, wills her body to remain still. After a while, Indra spins around, nods at the man on her left, and starts walking toward the gates, which are slowly being pushed open by the four guards.

“Leave your sword and knives outside; they will be here when you return. Only warriors are allowed to carry weapons inside these walls.”

She doesn’t stop walking even as Octavia does what she asked, handing her weaponry to one of the guards. She catches up to Indra as fast as she can, not wanting to fall behind in unknown territory, and they cross into Polis side by side.

If the outside walls felt almost familiar, Polis itself is nothing like Octavia expected. It is close to nightfall, and the air is always cold, as of late, but there are people everywhere, and the atmosphere is warm.

She sees men and women laughing around large tables covered in food, shop owners closing down for the day, small children running around, jumping over logs and tumbling to the ground happily. There are huts of different sizes, sporadically spread as far as Octavia can see, and the constructions look solid and comfortable. She notices bigger structures as they progress toward the center of the city, but the people still look happy, almost welcoming, and it all feels bittersweet.

She tries not to dwell on past possibilities as they near what appears to be the Commander’s house.

“Wait outside,” Indra commands, going into Lexa’s hut.

Octavia does so, patiently standing with her back to the door. She distracts herself with her surroundings, the smell of cooked meat in the air carried by the cool breeze, the familiar intonations of Tridesgaleng all around her, until Indra comes back out, silently inviting her in.

The inside of Lexa’s hut looks as inviting as the rest of the city, thick furs covering the floors and the walls, isolating the inhabitants from the outside temperature. A small fire is growing in a stone fireplace, casting an orange glow on the large room not encumbered by inner walls, and Lexa is standing near a long table, her back to Octavia.

“Welcome, Octavia,” she starts, her voice low and poised, “I am pleased to see you survived the Mountain.”

“No thanks to you,” she mumbles, but the words carry over the silence of the hut. Indra tenses at her side, her free hand going to the handle of her sword, but Lexa, now facing Octavia, raises her hand in an appeasing motion.

“You do not understand my actions, Octavia, I know this, but you are a visitor here, and as every other visitor, you will show me respect.” Her tone hasn’t changed, but Octavia knows there is no room for defiance. “Indra says you have a proposition for me.”

“It’s about Clarke.” Lexa tenses visibly for a second, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, before slipping back into her mask of indifference. “After we defeated the Mountain Men, she left Camp, and we haven’t seen her since then.”

“Clarke is ressourceful,” Lexa interrupts abruptly, “She is a survivor. I am sure she is faring well on her own.”

Octavia exhales sharply, willing herself to respect Lexa’s imposed rules. “This isn’t about her survival,” she answers. “There is dissent among our people.” Octavia steels herself for the next part. “Not everyone has taken kindly to your… deal.”

 _Betrayal_ hangs on the tip of her tongue, echoes like a war horn and tastes of copper and iron, but she swallows it back. 

“They want revenge,” Octavia admits.

Indra grunts in discontent, spitting out a word that Octavia doesn’t recognize, and Lexa looks at her with intent, the flames of the fire shimmering in her eyes.

“If your people attack us, they will perish.” The words are definitive, and Octavia doesn’t doubt their veracity.

“I know. Our army is weakened. Even if it wasn’t, the rest of us have no interest in another war,” Octavia steps closer to Lexa, determination bleeding out of her words. “Which is why we need Clarke. If anyone can make them see reason, it’s her.”

Lexa’s eyes drop to the floor for the first time since Octavia stepped foot inside of her home.

“You have no yet made it to your request, Octavia,” she says, softly.

“We need your tracking skills,” Octavia answers, truthfully, “as well as your horses, and whatever equipment you deem necessary.”

“We?” she pries.

“Raven.” Lexa tenses at the name. “She insisted on coming.”

“Is that all?” Lexa inquires.

“Yes,” Octavia lies. The time for talks of alliance is not here yet, and she knows this. “Both of our people avoid an unnecessary war, and if you wish,” she ventures, “you take a first step toward mending your relationship with the Sky people. You never know when you might need us again, Commander.”

Silence falls again as Lexa walks toward the fire, hands clasped behind her back.

“I will need to think on it,” she declares after a while, “meet me tomorrow morning, you will stay the day, and be treated as my guest. I will have my answer ready by nightfall.”

Octavia nods. “Thank you, Commander.” To her right, she hears Indra make a disapproving sound.

“What is it?” Lexa asks, turning to look at her.

“I do not think this pursuit is a good idea, Commander,” she answers, glancing at Octavia on the word _pursuit_.

“Your concern is appreciated, Indra,” Lexa replies, “but I have not made my decision yet. You do not need to convince me of anything.”

She turns back around to face the flames. “Indra will show you to your quarters for the night,” she says, her words already betraying her absent mind. “I hope you will be satisfied with your accommodations.”

Indra turns sharply on her heels and Octavia takes that as her cue to follow. In the time they spent inside of Lexa’s home, night has fallen on the capital, leaving only spots of orange burning in the darkness. The stars are visible despite the faint light that emanates from the fires outside, and Octavia feels an unfamiliar pang of homesickness.

They get to a smaller hut, a few houses away from the Commander’s, and Indra stands to the side of the door, silently ushering Octavia in. Stopping at the doorway, she mutters a thank you in Indra’s direction, and steps into the plainly furnished house. The soft bed is a welcome sight after a long day of walking, and she sits down to take off her boots.

Octavia thinks she hears a rough “sleep well” from the outside, but the door is shut and she lies down into the warmth of the furs surrounding her, feeling the weight of exhaustion sink down on her eyelids.

 

***

 

She wakes to the sound of clanking outside her hut, the golden glow of morning light already coming through the window, catching in the fine hairs of the animal coats below her. Getting up to get dressed, she feels the burn of the previous day’s trip in her thighs, but the rest of her is more rested than it has been since the end of the war.

Outside, Octavia sees a short woman hitting at a metal blade with a hammer, a fire burning besides her, three young children gathered around, watching her work. Over the thumping noise that woke her, she can make out the woman calmly explaining her steps in a Trigedasleng Octavia struggles to understand. She closes her door behind her, glancing one last time toward the metalworker and her little apprentices, before heading toward Lexa’s quarters.

Even after a month, Octavia still sports her Grounder clothing, feels more at ease in it, but looking around at the people of Polis, she quickly realizes that her garments are those of a warrior. She sees people wearing furs and wool, watches workers sweating in flimsier fabric, but only those bearing weapons are clad in leather.

She finds Lexa standing outside of her home, seemingly waiting for her. Her face is clean, she is dressed in a different coat, and for a moment Octavia feels self-conscious of her grimy state, but she walks up to the Commander with practiced confidence.

“Good morning, _Heda_ ,” she greets.

“Good morning, Octavia. I trust your night went well?” Lexa sounds uncharacteristically soft, a barely there smile on her face as she approaches Octavia.

“It did. Thank you for your hospitality, Commander,” she answers, voice not quite relaxed yet.

Lexa nods in response. “We are not at war anymore, Octavia. We are not even allies, as you made sure to remind me yesterday,” Octavia swears there is mirth in her eyes, but her face remains impassible. “You may call me Lexa.”

“I thought we could go for a walk,” she continues, “discuss this proposition further.” Without waiting for an answer, she starts walking east, and Octavia follows at her side. “After, you will have access to all of our facilities for the day.”

On their way, they pass a group of teenagers playing around with a ball, and Octavia misses Bellamy, for a moment. He would like Polis. Maybe even the people, if he were to meet them under different circumstances.

“I do not know what activities you favor, Octavia, but we have libraries, bathhouses, gymnasiums, gardens, art houses, and many other amenities, all at your disposition. If you so wish,” she pauses, giving Octavia a moment to take it all in, “I can accompany you.”

Lexa isn’t looking at her, and now that Octavia sees her in the bright light of day, face clean of war paint, she has never seemed so relaxed. She looks younger, without the weight of so many lives hardening her traits into a mask of indifference. The thought makes Octavia smile to herself, before she remembers that that weight fell onto Clarke, drove her away into isolation.

“I would be grateful,” she answers anyway.

They walk in silence, for a while. Octavia doesn’t want to push the conversation; she is content taking in the city, for now.

They are interrupted when a blond toddler runs straight into Lexa’s legs, stick in hand, babbling words of Trigedasleng that Octavia doesn’t understand. By the look on her face, Lexa doesn’t seem to either, but he is quickly followed by his father, panicked and profusely apologizing.

Without a word, Lexa kneels down to his height, staring into wide blue eyes like she would her Generals’.

“ _Nou foto, yong gona,_ ” She smiles big, ruffling his curly hair.

He giggles, swinging his stick above his head, running away in the other direction, unsteady on his legs. His father takes off after him, apologizing one last time, but Lexa smiles at him too, fondness reaching her eyes, and Octavia knows her own are softening despite her better judgement.

She tries not to ponder if Lexa’s loyalty to her people extends beyond the battlefield, crosses over into something that reads like love.

The sun is high in the sky when they reach the water that lines the city on the east. The air smells different so close to the sea, and the light seems purer, shining off the ripples of the water.

Lexa stops at the edge of the small wooden pier, looks back to Octavia before sitting down on the edge. Her feet don’t quite reach the water, and it makes her seem even younger than before. Octavia sits down next to her, carefully, leaving some distance between them.

It feels strange, and it’s not only because this is the first time she sees the ocean – the tangible waves and salty draft that come with it, not just the pictures in Bellamy’s books. It feels almost surreal, really, to be somewhere so peaceful after just a month, to see Lexa so calm after witnessing her fire.

Once again, Octavia remembers Clarke, wonders if this is also something that can be taught, if Lexa could ease the ghosts of innocents out of her mind.

Clarke would choose the ghosts over Lexa, she thinks.

“I will go with you,” Lexa snaps her out of her thoughts, “Help you find Clarke.”

“Quick decision.” Octavia hides her surprise well. “Why the change of heart?”

Lexa turns her head towards her. Her eyes are the color of troubled water, she realizes, the lingering of conflict not deep underneath.

“I do not... regret my actions,” she begins, still searching Octavia’s eyes, “but if I can ease some of the pain I caused your people,” Lexa pauses, looking back to the water, “I am inclined to offer my help.”

Octavia stays silent, her eyes on Lexa, sensing the words still hanging on the edge of her mouth, hesitating to come out.

“While I am willing to do whatever necessary to find Clarke,” Lexa breathes out, “I have doubts regarding her desire to see me.” Her shoulders square before continuing. “Perhaps it would be best if I left once she has been found.”

Octavia studies the clench of her jaw, follows the straight line of her back down to the hands clutching repeatedly at the wooden pier.

“That’s for Clarke to decide. Let’s not worry about it right now,” Octavia says, half soothing half dismissive.

“As for Raven,” Lexa starts, looking straight ahead. The words hang in the air for an instant, but any evidence of shame is carried away to the sea before Octavia can catch it.

“Raven will do whatever it takes to find Clarke,” she answers the silent question, voice harder than before. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t try to attack you in your sleep.”

Lexa inhales sharply, turning her head. “I doubt she would be able to take me by surprise.”

“Relax, _Commander_ , I’m joking,” Octavia drawls out, teasing smile directed at Lexa.

“Oh,” Lexa lets out, lowering her eyes slightly. “Well, if I awaken with bruises, I will know who to blame,” she says looking back up, and Octavia is glad there is no war paint to hide the faint tinge of red that’s creeping up her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempted trigedasleng translations  
> "My name is Octavia of the Sky people. I want to speak to your Commander"  
> "Draw back."  
> "Not bad, young warrior."


	2. Chapter 2

The leather groans as Raven tries desperately to stretch it over carved wood, but it finally, blissfully, gives, and she nails it to the frame before it can snap back into her face. It’s actually starting to look something like the original sketches, or at least Raven thinks so, and she’s got half a mind to go out there and kiss Lincoln for his help with carving and materials.

Monty designed the model, making sure the attachment was adjustable to fit any saddle, and added a side pocket for her cane, “just in case you want to take it with you”. He’d been an amazing friend the past couple of days, not that she’d say that to his face without the threat of imminent pain, but she’s sincerely grateful that she has someone in her corner.

He’s not the only one who’s offered help, but he’s the only one who doesn’t ask too many questions, or too little, who’s just kind of there when she needs him and knows to make himself scarce when necessary. Raven knows she might have set her standards a little high.

The attachment is really just a light wooden frame with some leather pieces thrown over it, but it holds her leg still and still manages to be comfortable, so she’s not one to complain. It’s a far cry from Wick’s impossible designs.

She’s almost done with the piece when Monty barges in, slightly out of breath, to tell her that Octavia is back, or so Bellamy says, and that Lexa is with her.

Dropping everything, Raven follows him outside, but when they get to Octavia, she’s alone, and on foot. She looks worn and tired, streaks of fresh dirt on her cheeks, and Raven throws her arms around her neck before she can really think about it.

Octavia takes a second to react, knocked slightly out of balance by the sudden outburst of affection, but soon enough one of her hands comes to rest on Raven’s lower back, warmth spreading through the thin layer of clothing.

Raven pulls back just as quickly, glancing at Monty, only to find him smiling wide at Octavia. It makes the warmth return, higher, spreading to her chest.

“Where’s Lexa?” Monty asks after what feels like a long time, brows furrowing. “I thought she was with you.”

“She stayed behind,” Octavia answers, voice rough from exhaustion, “she thought it would be better if she didn’t show up at Camp unannounced.” She glances at Raven. “I can’t say I disagree.”

Raven smiles, a little forced.

“And the horses?” she asks, almost as an afterthought.

“With her, tied to a tree, waiting patiently for you to torment one of them,” Octavia teases, and this time Raven’s smile pulls at her lips uncontrollably.

“Okay, smartass,” she fires back, “I have something to show you.”

They walk back to the mechanics’ tent, and Monty disappears when they pass by Nathan and Harper, not before quickly hugging Octavia, mumbling a couple of words into her shoulder.

Once in front of the tent, Raven holds the flap open with her cane, ushering Octavia in with her free hand. She’s mostly walking without it these days, but she’s been working long hours, and she’s feeling the strain in her leg.

“Check this out,” Raven grins, pushing the attachment on the table toward Octavia.

“You built this in four days?” she asks, turning it around in her hands.

“I had help,” Raven shrugs, leaning against the table. “It’s not finished yet.”

Octavia raises her eyes to meet Raven’s. “So you’re sure about this then?”

Raven sighs, grabbing the piece being handed back to her.

“I just mean,” Octavia continues, “about Lexa being here.”

“I haven’t forgotten about her tying me to a post to slowly bleed me to death, if that’s what you’re asking,” Raven snarks, fingers trailing against the line of nails holding leather to wood, “but if this is about her betraying us to save her people, I get it.”

Octavia’s eyes widen, hands splaying against the metal table, leaning forward into Raven’s space.

“You _get_ it?” she asks, disbelief straining her voice.

“No one risks their life for you out of the goodness of their heart, Octavia,” Raven answers matter-of-factly, “Family protects you, people you’ve known for two weeks don’t.”

“You can’t possibly think that,” Octavia states more than asks.

“I’m not saying I agree with what she did,” her voice raises slightly, “I’m just saying, in retrospect, it wasn’t a surprising decision.”

“Finn put himself at risk for you,” Octavia pushes.

“Finn _was_ family,” Raven spits out, cheeks heating up. “I’m not defending her, why are you getting so upset over this?”

“No one in Mount Weather had to help us.” Octavia defends, “Maya _died_ trying to help people she didn’t have to help. All of our people inside would be dead if not for them.”

“Trust me,” Raven answers, “I’m grateful we got out of there alive. But a few exceptions doesn’t make what I said any less true,” she dismisses. “People are selfish.”

Octavia huffs, crossing her arms, and Raven sighs, eyebrows drawing together at Octavia’s discontentment. “Look, I’m sure we can both be civil toward Lexa,” she says, almost convincing. Almost convinced. “For Clarke,” her voice softens.

“To keep the peace, you mean,” Octavia baits.

“Yeah,” Raven answers, too fast, shifts under Octavia’s stare, “of course.”

Silence settles for a minute, heavy, before Octavia points to the object sitting on the table, sly grin spreading across her face.

“Do you wanna try it out?” The childish quality to her voice defuses the tension almost instantaneously, and Raven can’t help but recognize the teasing seventeen year old girl she first met, behind all that dirt and grit.

“Now?” she asks, an answering smile stretching her lips.

“Yes, now,” Octavia exclaims, laughter in her eyes, “Come on, Reyes,” she goes around the table to tug at her hand, “Unless you got somewhere better to be?”

Her eyebrow is quirked in challenge, and Raven follows willingly.

“Lead the way.”

 

***

 

“Keep your back straight.”

“I _am_.”

“Well straighter, then.”

Lexa is sitting on the ground, back resting against the bark of a tree, quietly observing as Octavia tries to teach Raven riding skills. Raven is hunched over the horse, arms at an uncomfortable angle, but Lexa will not intervene, for now at least. She knows better than to try to help when her help is unwanted.

“Keep your elbows in.”

Raven corrects the position of her arms, and her shoulders follow suit. Lexa nods to herself, and Octavia shouts her approval, even as Raven continues to look uneasy on her mount. Even from afar, Lexa can tell her grip on the reins is too tight, that her heels are digging too hard into the sides.

“Relax, Raven,” Octavia tells her, “you’re riding a horse, not defusing a bomb.”

Raven turns to glare at Octavia, but the sudden movement seems to surprise the horse and it shakes its head vigorously. Letting out a string of curses, Raven leans forward in panic.

“This thing is _alive_ ,” Raven hisses, “at least a bomb is predictable.”

Lexa smiles to herself, remembering similar words coming out a familiar mouth a few years back. She’d tried to teach Costia to ride on a horse much too big for her, to no avail until Lexa had climbed on the saddle behind her, guiding her movements for as long as it had taken for her to get used to them. Costia had admitted months later, an embarrassed tinge on her cheeks, that she had dragged the lesson on for longer than necessary. Lexa had simply kissed her cheek, feeling its heat under her lips, adoration rooting itself deeper into her heart.

“Maybe if you stopped squirming and pulling on the reins like you want the horse to fly off,” Octavia admonishes, “it would listen to you.”

Raven mumbles something under her breath that neither Lexa nor Octavia can hear, but the look on Octavia’s face shows that she’s aware the words were none too friendly.

“Okay, try pulling on the right rein gently,” Octavia sighs, “your horse should turn with it.”

Lexa sees it before it happens, in the way Raven’s hand jerks too far back, and she’s on her feet as quickly as her legs permit it. The horse rears once, which causes Raven to throw her arms around its neck to avoid a fall, and Lexa is there before the horse’s hooves even touch ground, hands soothing on its neck as she grabs the reins from Raven.

Raven exhales shakily, eyes closed, but to her credit, she makes no move to get down from the horse. Lexa brings her hand to Raven’s, calmly, but as soon as her fingers touch skin, Raven jerks back.

“Raven, please,” she says, voice calm even as Raven frowns at her, “give me your hand.”

“I can do this on my own,” she snaps, looking away from Lexa.

“I do not doubt your abilities to master a skill as simple as horse riding,” Lexa appeases, “but your mount can sense your apprehension.”

“So?” Raven challenges, eyes cold as they fall back to Lexa.

She goes for Raven’s hand again, and this time Raven lets her take it, despite the grunt that comes out of her, skin warm under Lexa’s cold fingers. She guides it to the horse’s neck, holds it there encouragingly until Raven starts stroking.

“Riding a horse isn’t like using a sword, Raven,” she starts, handing the reins back into Raven’s free hand.

“Well I can’t do either, so,” Raven interrupts childishly.

“What I mean,” Lexa continues, undeterred, “is that you cannot overpower a horse. Like you said, it is alive. You cannot master it, the way you would a weapon,” she takes a step backward, ignoring the tension that returns to Raven’s shoulders, “You have to work with her,” she says, pointing to the horse, “not against her.”

Raven’s body goes back to a correct posture, back straight, and she gently kicks the sides of her horse, making it slowly pace forward.

“Good,” Lexa approves, “now try to relax your hands, and pull gently to left.” Raven starts, progressively this time, and the horse launches into a left turn. Lexa smiles softly, and Raven does too, looks to Octavia who offers her two thumbs up.

“If your leg allows it, try guiding the turn with your hips as well.” The horse finishes its turn, and Raven lets out an almost giddy laugh. “Very well,” she praises, “When the turn is done, bring the reins back to a neutral position, and she will go forward again.”

She spends a few more minutes practicing, quickly figuring out the right amount of force necessary for each action, and Lexa feels a hint of pride making its way into her chest. She will not voice it, knows this does not change the way Raven feels about her, but she wonders whether or not Anya had felt this way with her.

“When you feel ready, kick twice for your horse to speed up,” Octavia’s voice takes over.

Raven does so, lets out a surprised noise at the sudden shift in pace, but quickly recovers as Octavia laughs from the sidelines.

The clearing they are currently in allows for the horse to reach something close to full speed, and Raven goes a few times around before pulling to a stop, a little too abruptly, but effectively nonetheless. Lexa stays to the side, lets Octavia go to Raven, help her dismount with steady hands and breathy laughter. Raven stumbles forward as her injured leg hits the ground, into Octavia, and the laughter quiets for a moment.

Lexa looks away, feeling like an unwanted intruder, keeps her eyes elsewhere until she hears the footsteps getting close.

“It almost felt like space walking again,” Raven is saying, excitement barely concealed, and Octavia smiles brightly.

“I didn’t know you were such a good teacher,” Octavia comes up to Lexa, almost teasing.

“It is a necessary part of commanding,” she answers quietly, face neutral as she glances at Raven.

“Yeah,” she agrees reluctantly, “thanks.” Her tone betrays some resentment, still, traces of a grudge not quite erased, but it isn’t aggressive like it was before. Lexa smiles briefly, even so, tries not to hope for things she knows are not hers to wish for, not hers to enjoy in this life anymore.

 

***

 

“What the _fuck_ are those?” Raven lets out, breath condensing in the cold air of dawn, eyes wide as she retreats slightly behind Octavia.

“They are _haulas_ ,” Lexa answers, hand sliding through the thick grey fur of the beast at her side, “descendants of what the Old World called wolves.”

The animal stretches its mouth wide, baring all of its teeth, and Raven grasps Octavia’s arm a little tighter. Lexa seems unfazed by the display of razor sharp canines, or for that matter, by the terror in Raven’s eyes.

“And how the hell did I not notice them yesterday?” Raven asks, voice higher than her usual register.

“They are very well behaved,” Lexa states plainly, still looking at the two monsters coming up to her waist. One of them is mostly grey, specks of white scarce around its neck, and the other one seems brown, although copper and gold shine on its fur under the low light of sunrise.

“And you,” Raven steps back from Octavia, an accusatory look on her face, “you knew about these things?”

“They’re trained, Raven,” Octavia replies, a hint of defensiveness in her tone, “and we need them to find Clarke,” she says pointedly. “How else are we supposed to track a month old trail?”

Expression still uncertain, Raven slowly approaches the animals, extending a tentative hand toward the head of the brown one, finding it met by a nudge of the muzzle, and a tongue coming out to lick at her fingers.

Octavia and Raven had slept at Camp Jaha that night, had tried to enjoy one last evening with their friends before the trip took them away for an unknown period of time.

They had left before daybreak, avoiding unwanted attention and painful goodbyes, and with enough supplies to last them for the first few days – blankets, weapons, and just enough food and water for the absence not to be noticed. Lexa had been waiting for them by the clearing, with the horses and a few more supplies she had brought with her from Polis, as well as, as Raven now knew, two giant tracking beasts.

“You said Clarke had been to a bunker sometime during her trip,” Lexa asks, already mounting her horse, “that is where we should start. Stay close, and follow my lead,” she instructs, her eyes on Octavia.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Octavia replies, “Raven’s the one with no earth skills to speak of.”

Raven scoffs, turning to glare at her, but Octavia only shrugs, tilting her head as if daring Raven to question her statement. She shakes her head in disbelief, but she can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face.

It’s a short way to the bunker, even more so by horse, and soon enough Octavia is coming back up through the entrance, holding a dirty rag in her right hand.

“I think this is Clarke’s,” she says, handing the cloth to Lexa, “but I can’t be sure.”

“It is,” Lexa replies, an edge to her voice that Raven can’t place. She dangles it in front of the two animals, murmuring a few words that Raven doesn’t understand, and both of them start sniffing it before darting away, head low to the ground.

Raven is still on her horse when Lexa orders them to follow the _haulas_ , watches as her and Octavia jump onto their mounts, and all three of them take off racing after the two animals. It goes on for a while, their pace adapting to that of the beasts leading them. Raven stops struggling with the changing speed after a few hours.

When they lose sight of their master, or when they appear to have found something, the animals howl. It makes sense, Raven realizes, but the loud cries make her worry about other possible inhabitants of this forest. Lexa seems unsettled, though, and as much as Raven hates to admit it, she trusts her on matters of survival – Lexa’s own survival, at least, and it seems to be linked to Raven and Octavia’s, for the time being.

The last of daylight’s glow is disappearing behind the trees when Lexa suggest they stop for the day. They set up camp near a few trees growing closer together, providing some measure of shelter, and Raven starts a small fire close to them. Octavia is looking at her, eyes slightly widened in surprise.

“What?” Raven grunts, throwing more wood into the flames, “you think a mechanic can’t start a fire?”

Octavia throws a pebble at her in response, but it misses her by a few inches.

“Nice aim, Pocahontas,” she sits by the fire, hand rubbing at her thigh to ward off the pain, “Good to see all that training really paid off.”

“Shut up,” Octavia laughs, coming to sit next to her. Lexa is feeding the animals, a few trees down. She doesn’t join them until they decide to rest, and they sleep huddled around the fire, _haulas_ cuddled around their master.

They follow the trackers around for a few days, without losing the trail, and Lexa tells them, a slight frown on her face, that they are steadily heading north. The nights are getting colder, Raven can tell as much, and she sees in Lexa’s eyes that this is cause for concern. Her leg hurts more in this weather, and she’s unsure whether Lexa fears for them or for Clarke. That hurts more somehow, but she puts it to the back of her mind, tries to focus on the task at hand.

“Teach me how to fight,” she tells Lexa one night, shoulders squared and eyes lit up by the still burning fire. Octavia is sleeping beside them, exhausted by her hunting duties, and Lexa is already lying down when Raven makes her request.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is low and sleep ridden.

“I want you,” she points to Lexa in an exaggerated fashion, “to teach me how to fight.”

“Raven,” Lexa sits up on her blanket, rubbing her eyes, “we both need rest.”

“No,” Raven insists, “what I _need_ , is for you to help me not feel so helpless when travelling through the goddamn wilderness.”

“I cannot train you in a day,” Lexa answers, exasperation growing in her voice, “it takes years of practice to become a warrior.”

Raven rolls her eyes, stepping closer to Lexa’s makeshift bed. “I don’t need you to make me into one of your little followers, Lexa,” she stresses her name, “I just need to know a few basics. Enough to not get my ass kicked if we run into any trouble.”

“You are tired, and weakened,” Lexa sighs, “these are not the right conditions to begin training.”

“You owe me,” Raven crosses her arms, jaw clenched tight as she stares Lexa down. “You did try to kill me.”

“Very well,” Lexa stands up, coming toe to toe with Raven. She’s barely a few inches taller, but it’s enough for Raven to want to wipe the unreadable expression off her face, make it contort into something closer to pain. “I will teach you.”

“If this is to work,” she continues, “you must listen to me,” she shrugs off her cloak, leaving her arms bare in the cold air of night, “and do as I say. Will you be able to put your anger aside and follow my instructions?”

Raven feels her mouth contorting at the condescension dripping off Lexa’s words, but she wills herself to control her first reaction. Instead, she answers, aiming for neutrality, “I can try.”

Lexa nods, once, hands clasped behind her back, shifting imperceptibly again into her role of Commander. Weeks old anger flaring back, white hot and all-consuming, Raven feels like screaming – for Clarke, for Finn, for herself – but she swallows it back.

“You move slower,” Lexa says, looking at her leg, and Raven has to bite her cheek to avoid lashing out, “you strength is in close quarters. If you are attacked, you cannot run away.”

Raven scoffs, mutters an _unlike you_ loud enough for Lexa to hear, but it goes ignored, steely eyes staring into her own without a trace of agitation.

“Whenever you can,” Lexa keeps going, “step into your opponent. Once inside, your size will give you the advantage. Swords will be much less effective, and knives will be easier to disarm.”

She listens attentively, even as her fists clench impatiently at her sides, and Lexa keeps listing the basic rules for not getting killed within the first five seconds. Or so Raven interprets. It makes sense, in theory at least, especially when Raven starts to think of it as mechanics: use what you have; the simplest way is always best; work around the problem.

“Put your guard up,” Lexa says after a while, making Raven’s heartbeat pick up, excitement and apprehension bubbling up in her throat, “and do not drop it, under any circumstances.”

Lexa throws her hand out in a hook, and Raven blocks it with her left, just as Lexa’s other fist connects with her stomach, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave her breathless for a moment.

“Your reflexes are good,” Lexa consents, “but remember, there are no rules in-” Her advice is interrupted when Raven’s fist crashes into the side of her jaw, snapping her head briefly to the side. Her hand comes up to rub at the skin, infuriatingly unfazed, but to Raven’s surprise, Lexa lets out a small laugh.

“I see you do not need a lesson in ruthlessness,” she smiles, stepping forward, back in fighting stance, ducking one of Raven’s punches, then a second, stepping outside before grabbing her arm, pushing it down, swiftly going around her and bending it behind her back.

Raven tries to wriggle her way out of the hold, but it only puts more strain on her shoulder. “I will not lie to you,” Lexa says, still gripping her arm tightly, “you are at disadvantage.” She lets go, stepping in front of Raven again, no indication of effort impairing her speech.

“You must learn to incapacitate your opponent as quickly as possible,” she continues, and Raven lunges again, jabbing straight in front of her, watching as Lexa effortlessly avoids her attacks. Raven can tell her movements are too slow, feels the anger rising back up again, and her arm swings wide toward Lexa’s temple. Lexa moves out of the way, yet again, and Raven loses her balance, manages to break her fall with hands.

“Don’t let your anger take control of your movements,” Lexa chastises, holding out a hand for Raven to grab.

She does, her own hand wrapping around Lexa’s forearm, but she hooks her foot around Lexa’s knee, pushes with her other foot on Lexa’s opposite hip, and watches in satisfaction as she topples to the ground. She quickly climbs on top of her, knees on both sides of her hips, and her elbow comes to rest on Lexa’s throat.

There’s a small smile on her face, one Raven has the urge to wipe off, but she feels their positions switch before she can react, and Lexa is off the ground once again.

“Clarke was right,” she breathes, signs of exertion finally starting to show, “you are a fighter.”

Her throat feels tighter, but this time, when Lexa offers a hand to help her up, Raven accepts, tries not to think too much on the implications of the renewed gesture.

“That’s enough for today,” Lexa declares, and Raven doesn’t feel like questioning it. She heads back to her cot, finds Octavia still sleeping soundly by the fire, and if she feels a renewed tug somewhere within her chest, she blames it on the adrenaline.

“You have a cane, yes?” she hears from somewhere behind her.

“Yeah,” she answers, turning around to look at Lexa questioningly, “why?”

“Aim for the knees,” is the only response she gets before Lexa slips into her bed, back turned to the fire, to her and to Octavia.

 

***

 

The first signs of winter arrive on day eleven, soft flakes tumbling down from the sky, getting caught in Octavia’s hair as their ride haltingly through the forest – the _haulas_ haven’t lost the trail, but they are having more and more difficulty following it. They have both read about snow, but experiencing it feels different, and she catches Raven’s eyes as she smiles giddily at her.

Lexa seems less cheerful at the sight; the frown on her forehead has been growing deeper every day, and Octavia would be concerned if Lexa had so much as said a word about her worries. She might not know Lexa very well, but she knows a Commander would never keep her soldiers – or whatever her and Raven are – in the dark, had danger been creeping closer. No, this is something else entirely.

She is training Raven, or so Octavia found out two nights ago, and she’s not sure why Raven kept it from her, or why they still wait for Octavia to be asleep to begin. They both have mild bruises scattered across their bodies, on the parts Octavia can see at least, and Raven woke up this morning with a split lip and a mumbled explanation. She pretends, for Raven’s sake, wants her to admit it to her willingly, but she sees the enjoyment both of them try to conceal during their sparring sessions.

They progress in silence, for the most part, but the once pacifying quiet is slowly becoming saturated with things unsaid.  The morning feels heavy, and it is not just the harsh weather progressing unhurriedly, settling gradually into their bones.

“Is something wrong?” Octavia finally asks, around midday, after she sees Lexa uncharacteristically flinch at the sound of a howl.

Lexa opens her mouth after a few minutes, voice faintly strained. “The last time I was here, I was leading a search party,” she pauses, and her hands readjust on the reins of her mount, “for Costia.”

“Costia?” Raven asks bluntly.

“Oh,” Lexa lets out, too soft, eyes lowering slightly, “I presumed Clarke would have told you.”

“She didn’t,” Raven insists.

“Costia was,” she breathes out, “she was the one I loved. She was taken by the Ice Nation, not far from here,” her voice is steady now, like she has relived the story too many times, “They tortured her to get information, but to no avail.”

There is silence for a few seconds, the only sound made by the soft animal steps on the thin layer of snow, Lexa’s words hanging heavy in the air.

“She died bravely,” Lexa finishes.

“But she died anyway,” Raven retorts.

Lexa doesn’t reply.

“Is it worth it?” Raven asks after a while, her voice softer than before, a hesitant edge to her words. “The… collateral damage?” The question is vague, but it is clear enough for Lexa, if the way her body tenses is any indication.

“That has never been a question,” Lexa answers.

“Then why are you here,” Raven pushes, “if not to make things right?”

“Do not mistake my willingness to help for regret, Raven,” she asserts, “I have made peace with all of my decisions. A Commander cannot be burdened by past actions.”

“Are you saying you would do nothing differently, given the chance?” Octavia asks, throat burning with the memories of smoke.

“I would not,” Lexa replies, voice as hard as the harshening wind.

“Not even the missile?” Octavia persists.

“No,” Lexa maintains, “would you have preferred I let your brother be killed by the Mountain Men?”

Octavia grinds her teeth, but doesn’t push any further, has to remind herself that she too came to terms with the tolls of war.

“Would you betray us again?” Raven asks from behind Octavia, and even over the whistling wind, she can hear the undertone of hurt that seeps out of her words. “Would you betray Clarke again?”

Lexa falls silent again, for an instant, enough for Octavia to see the wavering in her eyes.

“Anya had to make hard choices on my behalf,” she confesses, “when I was not yet ready. Now that responsibility falls on my shoulders, and I will not evade it. The duty to protect my people comes first.”

“Yeah,” Raven grinds out, “we gathered as much.”

“It comes first,” Lexa repeats, like a mantra, “before your people, before my own life,” her voice is steady, over the wind, “and before my own desires.”

It shuts Raven down, for the time being, and they spend the rest of the afternoon in silence. The snow is slowly turning to a storm, and they are forced to seek shelter earlier than any other day. Octavia spots a boulder, close enough to the thick trees to provide protection from the wind, and nearly wide enough to cover all three of them.

They try to light a fire close to the rock, but the wind is unforgiving and every attempt, in vain. It’s too early to sleep yet; Octavia rolls out the makeshift beds nonetheless, positioning them in a triangle. Raven is taking out a small bag of berries, their only dinner for the night, but she is shivering, and her hands struggle to untie the bag. She is clad only in a red jacket, where Octavia’s own leather garments are keeping her moderately warm, and she’s about to head over there when she sees Lexa approach Raven.

She wordlessly drapes one of her furs around Raven’s shoulders, hands certain in their movements, leaving no time for Raven to protest. She looks back, startled, but Lexa is already sitting cross legged on her cot, and Raven simply adjusts the fur before joining them.

They eat in silence, bodies curled up against the icy air, somehow sheltered by the stone cutting off the worst of the wind’s bite. Lexa is only halfway through her portion when Raven finishes, her stomach still grumbling, and Lexa swiftly hands her the rest of her berries.

“You need them more than I do,” she says, in the face of Raven’s cautious expression.

Raven doesn’t meet her eyes, still shivering slightly under the thick fur, but mumbles a few words of gratitude before wolfing down the rest of Lexa’s food.

A dry laugh breaks the silence, moments later. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You got Finn killed, and now,” Raven laughs humorlessly again, growing agitated, “you’re the one sharing your food with me.”

Lexa lowers her eyes, mirroring Raven’s position. “You know he was the one who kept me alive,” she continues, looking between Octavia and Lexa, agitation growing into frenzy, “when my mother decided her addiction was worth more than her daughter’s life.”

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide and wet, and Octavia scoots closer to her, worry etched across her face.

“Raven,” she starts, softly, “are you sure you’re okay?” She raises her hand to Raven’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbles, moving away from Octavia’s hand.

Looking to Lexa for help, she slips her arm around Raven’s waist, and Lexa is quickly at her side, her hands on Raven’s arm, leading her toward her own bed. Weak protests are shortly muffled by thick furs, and a quick glance is enough for Lexa and Octavia to decide. They bring the three cots together, carefully lying down on each side of Raven, and Lexa’s soft whistle commands both animals to do the same.

“Anya raised me,” Lexa says after a few minutes, carefully stressing her words “I was orphaned very young; she was like a sister to me,” she pauses, looking at the girl between Octavia and herself. “I am not comparing Raven’s plight and mine,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Aren’t you?” Octavia whispers, shifting her eyes from Raven, who is still mumbling incoherently into the covers, to Lexa, “I mean, the sky people did kill Anya.”

She lets silence take over, running her hand over Raven’s sweaty forehead, her eyebrows drawing closer together at the heat of her skin.

Lexa’s eyes follow the movement, watch as Octavia’s hand strokes soothingly over Raven’s hair. “Death,” she says softly, “is an inevitable aspect of life. I may not have known my parents, but Raven had to live with a mother that did not care for her.”

Octavia looks up to meet Lexa’s eyes. “I would not pretend to know the pain of such a life,” Lexa finishes.

“Still,” Octavia breathes out, “I’m sorry about Anya. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to Bellamy.” 

She lets her eyes fall to Raven again, who’s now clutching at the fabric of Octavia’s shirt, forehead creased in discomfort. At her side, Lexa moves to get up, making Raven whine disapprovingly. Seeing the uncertainty on Lexa’s face, Octavia nods softly, stroking her hands once again over Raven’s hair, seemingly appeasing her.

When she comes back, she’s carrying what looks, in the faint light of the night sky, like a wet cloth. Kneeling next to Raven, she gently pushes down on her shoulder, and with Octavia’s help, makes her lie down on her back. Lexa carefully presses the damp fabric to her forehead.

Raven sighs in contentment, her eyes still closed. “Thanks Clarke,” she mumbles, and Lexa’s hands falter momentarily as she brings them back to rest on her knees.

“She must be hallucinating,” Lexa comments.

Octavia laughs lightly. “I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”

“Is Clarke…” she stops, looking down at Raven, “was she a healer among your people?”

Octavia flips the cloth, applying the now cooler side back to Raven’s forehead. “Her mom is a doctor. I guess she picked up a few things.”

“I see.”

Silence takes over again, the sounds of the unforgiving winter replacing Lexa’s hesitant voice. Raven seems to settle down after a while, and Octavia’s eyes are starting to feel heavy. Lexa sits up and readjusts Raven’s covers over her shoulders, removing the damp cloth from her forehead.

“Sleep,” She commands in a whisper, and Octavia is too tired to argue. She rests her head against her makeshift pillow, smiling softly at Lexa’s furrowed brow, and lets sleep overcome her.

 

***

 

Raven dreams of smoke and blood and of Finn’s laughter in her ear back on the Ark. She dreams of empty bottles all around her, of the hollow voice of her mother echoing in a room too small for them both. She dreams of Clarke’s dead body, dragged around Camp Jaha for all to see, of Abby’s eyes refusing to meet hers.

When she wakes, clothes drenched in sweat, it’s Lexa’s eyes she finds looking straight at her, her hands limp between crossed legs. She feels an aggravating sense of relief at the sight, stares up at her for a few minutes as she feels her heartrate slow down to a normal rhythm.

“You got a fever,” Lexa says matter-of-factly, “you were ill-prepared for the cold.”

Raven sits up, steadying herself against the sudden lightheadedness. “You didn’t have to stay awake.”

“It would have been unwise to leave you on your own in this state, and Octavia needed rest.” She brings a hand to Raven’s forehead, and Raven is too surprised to stop her. Lexa’s hand is freezing, and she doubts she can get any kind of accurate reading from it, but it feels soothing against her skin, and she leans towards it almost involuntarily.

“Don’t _you_ need rest?” she asks, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I am more used to these conditions than the both of you,” she takes her hand back, and Raven’s eyes snap open again, “this was the logical course of action, at least until you are back to full health. I believe your fever has dropped already.”

Raven feels a shudder run through her. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

“Your shirt is wet,” Lexa remarks, “you should-“

“I’m not taking it off, I don’t care what you deem the “best course of action”, Lexa,” Raven cuts abruptly, looking to Octavia’s sleeping body on her right.

“Very well,” Lexa answers, drawing back the covers on her cot to get under them, “you still need more heat.” She scoots closer to Raven, throwing the fur over both of them, and beckoning her pet monsters to their side.

“Fine,” Raven mumbles, resting back against her own bed, a safe distance between their bodies “but you better keep your hands to yourself, Commander.”

 

***

 

When Lexa wakes, she is met with a brown head of hair inches away from her face, and it takes her a few moments to shake the memories of Costia from her mind. The image of Octavia, sitting cross legged by the fire, warming some sort of liquid that will probably serve as breakfast for the three of them, takes some of the sting out of the painful reminder. Lexa looks up to see the sun already high in the sky.

“I thought Raven could use the rest,” Octavia says softly, “and you guys looked so cozy, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

There’s a half smile on her face and Lexa can’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment. “She was still cold.”

Octavia doesn’t say anything, but her expression doesn’t change as she goes over to Raven’s bedside to wake her, a bowl in hand. Raven’s eyes flutter open and her mouth stretches into a tired smile as she takes in the sight before her. They exchange a few words, Raven looking intermittently towards Lexa, until Octavia beckons her over.

“Bring the rest of the soup,” she motions to the pot still hanging over the fire.

The snow has stopped falling, and the wind has stopped blowing, leaving a strange sense of peace and tranquility. The forest seems frozen in time, safe for a moment, but Lexa knows this is part of the danger of the Ice Nation territory. They are moving closer and closer to their capital, and it’s getting harder not to imagine Clarke having fallen at the hands of their queen.

“We should leave now,” she says after they’ve finished eating, “if we wish to find Clarke soon.”

“We’re nearing the Ice Nation’s camp, aren’t we?” Raven asks. “You’ve been looking worried since you woke up.”

“I’m certain Clarke managed to stay out of their reach,” Lexa answers looking down at her empty bowl.

“That’s not what I asked,” Raven insists, getting up and ushering Octavia to help her mount her horse, “but come on, let’s go. Put your beasts back in tracking mode or whatever it is you do.”

They set out after the wolves, who seem more confident in their tracks than ever. It gives Lexa some hope of finding Clarke before the Ice Nation gets to her, but she tries not to get too lost in potential outcomes.


	3. Chapter 3

Raven is the one who sees her first. The _haulas_ had slowed their pace a couple of miles back, leaving them to search on foot – only after Raven had insisted several times that she was fine to walk.

Clarke is wearing a dark fur that falls all the way to her feet, draping around her shoulders, the head of the beast resting on top of her own. She’s sitting against a tree, the downward angle of her head hiding almost every recognizable feature, and she would easily be mistaken for an animal by anyone not paying close attention. She hears Octavia’s sharp intake of breath behind her, and the draw of a Lexa’s sword to her left; she raises her hand in a quieting motion, pointing wordlessly to the strands of blonde hair peeking out from underneath the bear’s head.

Making sure to keep her steps as silent as possible, she approaches Clarke’s sleeping body, kneeling down in front of her before reaching a hand towards her shoulder. The instant her fingers connect with the fabric under the fur, Clarke’s eyes snap open and Raven feels a tight grip on her wrist. She look almost feral, and Raven is taken aback for a second before plastering on a soothing smile.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” she whispers, feeling Clarke’s grip loosen even as her eyes frantically take in her surroundings, “you’re safe.”

The bottom half of her face is covered, leaving only her eyes to take in the light shining off the fresh snow. The black markings above her cheekbones only bring out their color, the warm blue that Raven is used to turned cold and unforgiving.

“What are you doing here, Raven?” she croaks out, voice tired and gravelly. She looks around to take in her surroundings. “What is _she_ doing here?” she nods towards Lexa who’s fidgeting with her sword next to Octavia. Letting go of Raven’s hand, she stands up, shaking the snow off her fur, and Raven follows suit.

“We needed her to find you,” she answers, still searching Clarke’s eyes for the slightest hint of the Clarke she knows, the one that left Camp Jaha barely a month ago

“I didn’t want you to find me,” she snaps, “that was kind of the point of leaving.”

“You’re needed back at camp, Clarke,” Octavia steps in, “people are talking about marching against Lexa’s clan again.”

“Maybe they deserve it,” Clarke mutters, staring harshly at Lexa.

“You know how that would go,” Octavia answers, “we can’t afford to lose any more people to this war.”

Clarke falls silent, still eyeing the three of them warily. She looks taller than before, even under the weight of her fur, and when she steps in front of her, Lexa seems to struggle to stand her ground.

“Nothing to say, Commander?” she breathes, a few inches from her face. “Are you going to run away again?”

“I wouldn’t-” Her answer is cut short by Clarke’s fist forcefully connecting with her chin, snapping her head to the side.

“You wouldn’t what?” Clarke spits out, anger finally catching up to her words, “Leave us to die? Abandon us? Break your promises?”

Lexa doesn’t respond, a thin line of blood dripping down from her split lip, and Clarke scoffs at the lack of reaction, turning around and walking back towards the tree where Raven and Octavia are still standing.

“My people come first,” Lexa says softy after a beat, the words a mantra lacking the conviction she had shown on other occasions.

The second the sentence leaves her lips, Clarke seems ready to hit her again, and Octavia steps in before she has a chance to do so. “Okay Clarke, let’s go.”

Clarke doesn’t protest, letting Octavia lead her away from Lexa, just as Raven approaches her.

“Come on, I have to clean that,” she says, pointing to Lexa’s split bottom lip.

“Leave it,” she answers, unconvincing command in her voice.

“Clarke might be ready to let you rot in the wilderness, but I’d rather you don’t catch your death in the stupidest way possible.”

Lexa doesn’t insist further, follows Raven back to the horses, watching as she reaches into the bag attached to hers.

She guides Lexa back against a tree, lifting her chin with one hand, dabbing at her lip with a clean compress, applying pressure until the bleeding stops. She can feel Lexa’s eyes on her face, their quiet intensity almost overwhelming.

“She’ll come around,” Raven says, breaking the tense silence, “You tried to kill me, and I’m here, right?” She offers a small smile, still looking at Lexa’s no longer bleeding lip.

“You’re here for Clarke,” Lexa notes matter-of-factly, “I am merely the means to that end.”

“Maybe at first.” Raven looks up to meet her eyes, her hand dropping back to her side. “Besides, we do still need you to get out of this snowy deathtrap.” She steps back with a nervous laugh. “There, all patched up.”

“Thank you, Raven,” Lexa pushes off the tree, straightening her shoulders again. Just then, Octavia approaches them again, Clarke not far behind, and before Raven can realize what’s happening, Lexa is pinned once again to the tree, a blade pushing on her throat. The wolves start growling and snarling, surrounding Octavia, until Lexa raises her hand to silence them.

“You tried to have me killed?” Octavia grinds out, free hand gripping around Lexa’s arm.

“What the hell is she talking about?” Raven asks, turning to Clarke, who’s trying to repress a smile

“She was threatening the peace,” Lexa answers, in a deliberately calm tone.

“And we all know how much Lexa cares about peace,” Clarke says from a few feet away.

Octavia turns to look at Raven, keeping the knife pressed against Lexa. “They knew about the missile, and they didn’t do anything. I found out, and Lexa thought I was too big of a _risk_ to keep alive.”

A tense silence settles, as Raven tries to take in the information. She knows Lexa could get out of Octavia’s grip, but the Commander seems intent on showing cooperation at all costs.

“I think it’s safe to say Lexa’s tried to kill everyone here at least once,” she says after a moment, a forced laugh leaving her lips, “but we still need her to avoid another war.”

“You’re taking her side?” Octavia asks incredulously.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, I’m trying to defuse this incredibly tense and awkward situation,” Raven answers, voice increasingly frustrated, “so how about you take that knife away from Lexa’s throat, and we talk about this like the rational people that we are.” She looks pointedly at Clarke.

Octavia slowly lowers her blade, sheathing it back against her leg, and lets go of Lexa’s arm, throwing one last glare her way before walking back to Clarke’s side. Raven feels the familiar sting of abandonment for an instant, but Lexa hesitantly comes to her side, and the feeling fades.

“Since when are you and Lexa friends?” Clarke asks, irritation back in her voice.

“We’re not-“, she stammers, looking to her left where Lexa is standing, “we’ve put our differences aside. What can I say, you have a knack for bringing people together, even when you’re not there.” She smiles tentatively in Clarke’s direction.

“Apparently wasn’t enough for Lexa to stay,” her tone is dry, but Raven can hear the grief underneath, and her answer gets stuck at the back of her throat.

Lexa steps in, looking straight at Clarke. “I would’ve stayed,” her voice betrays torment, even under the carefully chosen words, “had the circumstances been different.”

“But you didn’t,” she cuts, and Lexa doesn’t try to hold Clarke’s stare.

“I think we’ve established what Lexa’s done wrong,” Raven steps forward again, placing herself halfway between both parties, “maybe it’s time to see what we’re going to do next,” she turns her head toward Clarke and Octavia, “unless you’re good with letting your people march to their certain deaths.”

“We need to go back to Polis,” Lexa offers as a response, “if you wish to make our alliance official. I’ve left Indra in charge until my return, but it won’t sit well with the rest of the Clans if I’m away for too long.”

Clarke scoffs. “We wouldn’t want to upset the Commander of the Twelve Clans.”

“Are you gonna come with us or not?” Raven ignores her comment, trying to reign in her exasperation at the stagnating situation.

“I will,” Clarke answers, and she seems to be back to the person Raven first found in the woods, eyes withdrawn and shoulders squared, “but only for the sake of the alliance. As soon as it’s official, I’ll go back to Camp, and won’t see you,” she turns to Lexa, “for anything other than political matters.”

Raven is standing close enough to see Lexa swallow back her disappointment, nodding shortly at the terms of the agreement.

“We’re short a horse,” Octavia points out, “I think Clarke should ride with me.”

“Clarke can take my horse,” Lexa offers, glancing cautiously at her, “I will ride with Raven. If that is okay with Raven, of course” she adds as an afterthought.

Raven is taken aback for a moment, but considers the meaning of the gesture towards Clarke. “Yeah, no problem,” she answers as casually as possible, smiling at Lexa.

“Great, let’s go then,” Clarke cuts in, tone unchanged. Mounting Lexa’s horse with apparent ease, she turns around and starts heading down the open path between the trees. Octavia soon joins her, leaving Lexa and Raven to figure out their riding situation.

“Can you-” Raven nods toward her horse, walking closer to it as she waits for Lexa’s help.

She seems almost embarrassed, and Raven can’t help but feel a little endeared at the idea. Lexa approaches her and offers a hand in mounting the horse, then grabs Raven’s outstretched one to climb onto the animal herself. She sits behind Raven, as the custom saddle only allows for her to be sitting in the front, and Raven can feel Lexa’s hands carefully settle on her hips.

Despite the fabric between them, Raven feels warmer under Lexa’s touch than she has since they entered the cold land surrounding Ice Nation territory.

“Are you ready?” she asks over her shoulder, taking a hold of the reins.

“I am,” she hears Lexa’s voice, nervous near her ear, and feels her nod against her shoulder. Following down the same path, they quickly catch up to Clarke and Octavia, setting off for the ride to Polis.

 

***

 

They’ve been trying to stay out of Ice Nation territory, going south east towards the capital, as per Lexa’s directions, but the weather is still harsh and after a full day of horse-riding, they are far from reaching Polis – when leaving Camp Jaha, Clarke had simply headed north in the direction of Azgeda, and it had taken her over a month to get to the place where Raven had found her.

Octavia is following her closely, in silence, and Raven and Lexa are riding a few feet behind them, not quite out of hearing range.  The atmosphere is tense, save for a few attempts by Raven to defuse the situation, earning little but a sympathetic smile from Octavia and a couple of words from Lexa, who seems thankful to have found a semblance of an ally in Raven.

In her hyperaware state, Clarke spots the Ice Nation scouts walking in front of them just soon enough to avoid being detected. She immediately jumps off her horse, motioning for the others to do the same as she points toward the threat.  They lead the horses behind the trees, tying them securely, before going back to check on the scouts.

“I’ll take care of them,” Lexa tells them, a determined look on her face as she advances in their direction.

“Don’t,” Clarke grabs her arm before she can get far, forcefully dragging her back to face her, “we’re doing this my way. No unnecessary killing.”

“If they see us, they will sound the alarm,” Lexa insists in a hushed tone, “and we’ll be captured in a matter of minutes.” Even without the war paint, her eyes remind Clarke of the ones she saw back in TonDC, before the battle – different from the ones she saw when Lexa left her on Mount Weather, she thinks bitterly.

“Have you been living alone in the woods for a month?” she asks, unblinking, “Have you been surviving on your own in this place, Commander?”

Lexa’s mouth twitches in irritation, but she doesn’t say a word, keeps her eyes on Clarke’s.

“I didn’t think so. We’re waiting until they leave. If they find the bodies, we’ll have the entire scouting force on our asses,” Clarke points out.

“She’s not wrong,” Raven whispers.

“Uh, guys?” Octavia’s voice breaks them out of their staring contest, “they’re walking toward us.” She points towards the scouts who are now heading straight at them.

“There’s no way we can leave without being noticed now,” Raven says, sounding agitated.

Before anyone can argue further, Clarke starts walking silently towards the two men, ignoring the faint protests coming from behind her. Arriving at what she deems the right distance, she starts climbing the tree nearest to the path, taking a seat on a branch a few feet off the ground. She can feel eyes on her, briefly looks to see Lexa, Raven, and Octavia staring at her with varying degrees of concern etched across their faces.

The moment the scouts pass under her, Clarke drops behind them, knife in hand, grabbing the one closest to her from the back and pressing the blade to his throat.

“Give me your horn,” she instructs the second scout, hiding her entire body behind the first. Seeing him reach for his sword, she momentarily drops the blade from the man’s throat, sinking it deep into his thigh. “ _Hos op!_ ” she raises her voice, “the next one goes into his neck.”

The scout slowly drops his sword, then his horn, raising his arms in a show of good faith. By then, Lexa is next to her, and has grabbed the other scout in a similar fashion. She’s wearing a rope around her torso, and she motions for Clarke to bring the scouts against one of the trees. After securely tying them there and taking their equipment, she murmurs a few words in Trigedaslend that Clarke doesn’t pick up.

“They will be found, soon,” she says to Clarke, “we need to leave now.”

“I didn’t need your help,” she replies, heading back to their horses.

“You went alone against two armed men,” Lexa tells her, voice strained, “it was reckless of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” the words come out less harsh than she intended, her voice cracking against her will, “If I can take on a mountain full of armed men, I can take on two of them.”

“The circumstances are different,” Lexa answers, clearly struggling to keep her voice even. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “I am trying to redeem myself to you, Clarke.”

“Can you redeem me to the people who died in Mount Weather?” Seeing the look on Lexa’s face as she takes in the words, Clarke doesn’t wait for a response. “Then don’t bother.” She climbs back on her horse, taking once more the path leading to Polis.

 

***

 

“A river. Seriously.” Raven is looking at the water like it personally offended her, holding on tightly to Lexa as their horse leans back, huffing in dissatisfaction. The water doesn’t seem too deep, and the two banks seem to be just short of ten yards apart,  but the horses are vehemently refusing the cross it.

“Everyone get down,” Clarke commands, both feet safely on the ground. Octavia rushes to Raven’s side to help her unmount as Lexa, having done so already, steadies their horse. Clarke goes over to a nearby tree, snapping off a branch with ease. Submerging it into the water, she pokes around a few times, and Octavia hears the sound of it hitting the bottom each time.

“We should be able to get the horses across by foot,” Clarke says. “Raven, how do you feel about getting back on your horse for this?”

Looking at the saddle standing a few inches below her head, Raven shakes her head vehemently. “Nuh huh. I’m not gonna be on this thing when it starts rearing mid-way because it’s afraid of the water or whatever the hell is in there.”

Clarke lets out a sigh, but before she can refute Raven’s argument, Octavia pipes in. “Clarke, Lexa, grab the horses. You think you can get all three of them to the other side?”

Sharing a glance, Lexa and Clarke both nod, and Clarke takes hers and Octavia’s horse by the reins, setting off through the water. It comes all the way up to her waist, the bottom seemingly even, but the animals refuse to budge. Lexa approaches them, kneeling down by the river to splash some water on their legs; then, getting back up again, she lets them drink out of her hands, before patting their necks enthusiastically. After a few moments, and some gentle pulling on Clarke’s part, they finally start walking, slowly but steadily.

Turning her head back toward Raven, Octavia crouches down, her back to her. “Hop on,” she says, extending her arms backwards. At the bewildered look Raven gives her, she stands back up to face her. “You can’t exactly walk across, can you?”

Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, she approaches Octavia nonetheless, linking her arms around her neck and letting her legs fall on both sides of her hips. “Alright, giddy up, Pocahontas.” She lightly smacks her leg as Octavia stands up, and she is momentarily tempted to leave her on this side of the river.

“Do that again and you’re getting a much needed bath,” she says, trying to sound threatening.

“So sensitive,” Raven mumbles, too close to her ear to go unheard.

They are almost on the opposite bank, Octavia feeling the strain in her legs despite the short walk, when Lexa enters the water behind them, leading their last horse by the reins. The current isn’t strong, but advancing through water is difficult, even more so with another person on top. Lexa seems quite at ease, quickly making progress, already two thirds of the way done when Octavia and Raven reach the bank.

It almost look like she trips, at first – until they hear the scream that escapes Lexa’s lips. Her horse stomps its front legs repeatedly before anxiously rejoining land where Octavia is standing. Clarke is already in the water, branch in a hand, when Octavia sees Lexa fighting to keep her head above water. Something is relentlessly pulling her under, despite Lexa’s best efforts to get it off her leg. When she gets to where Lexa is, Clarke puts a hand under Lexa’s arm, steadying her for moment, long enough to thrust the stick in her arm towards the creature attacking Lexa’s leg. It takes a few attempts, but soon enough, Lexa’s leg is free and she is able to stand back up on her own.

They walk back to land, Clarke’s arm still supporting Lexa’s weight, and Octavia can see the blood trickling down Lexa’s leg where a bite mark has appeared. Clarke sits her down on the ground, propping the injured limb on a small rock.

“What the hell was that?” Raven asks, kneeling down opposite Clarke, examining the wound.

“I have no idea,” Clarke answers. “It doesn’t look too deep.” She looks up from Lexa’s leg to her face, her forehead still creased in concern. “Are you feeling anything weird? Dizziness? Nausea? Headache?”

Lexa shakes her head, still trying to catch her breath.

“I don’t think whatever bit you was venomous, but if you start experiencing any symptoms you need to let me know.” Clarke looks pointedly at her, like she wants to make sur her message gets across. “No heroics.”

“I will,” Lexa answers, already trying to get on her feet.

“Sit down,” Clarke demands, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I need to at least wrap this.”

She rips a piece of fabric from one of the many layers of clothing she’s wearing, and wraps it tightly around Lexa’s leg – tight enough that Octavia notices Lexa flinch when Clarke finishes tying it up.

“Do you think you can ride?” Octavia asks, looking over at Raven who seems just as worried.

With Clarke’s help, Lexa stands up, takes a few tentative steps before nodding. “I will have no trouble,” she answers despite the slight cringe that comes with every left step.

“Hey, we match now,” Raven teases, leading Lexa back to their horse as Clarke mounts hers. Octavia follows, stifling a laugh at Raven’s proud smile, and they set off in direction of the city once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempted trigedasleng translation  
> "Hurry up!"


	4. Chapter 4

They arrive to Polis at night, not too long after light has gone out. They’d forgone the idea of sleep that day when Lexa had told them they weren’t far from the city. Raven was feeling the effects of exhaustion, after days of horse riding and short nights in unpredictable weather, and she was barely able to keep her eyes open anymore, the rhythmic sway of the animal and the warmth of the body behind her lulling her sleep. Lexa had offered to help, a couple miles back, grabbing the reins from Raven’s hands, and she had been grateful for the gesture – even more so for the arms that were now encircling her, preventing her from falling off their horse.

Clarke is still leading their caravan, approaching the gate with self-assurance, until the night guards surround her with spears pointed toward her. Before she has the chance to do something undoubtedly thoughtless, Raven feels Lexa pull on the reins to join Clarke’s side.

“ _Chil yu daun_ ,” her voice is more authoritative than Raven has heard it since they’ve found Clarke, and the spears immediately withdraw, the guards falling back into position at the sound of their Commander’s voice.

“ _Moba, heda, oso nou ai yu op_ ,” the woman closest to her apologizes, looking straight ahead.

Lexa nods curtly. “Let us through.”

She makes her way past the guards, now aligned in two rows to let their Commander advance freely. Sitting in front of the horse that Lexa is riding, Raven feels small, and she tries to sit straighter under the detached stares of the grounders.

Once they leave the horses at the stable to be taken care of, and the _haulas_ in their enclosure, Lexa leads them in direction of her quarters, giving them little time to take in the capital. Despite the need for sleep dulling her senses, Raven can’t help but feel excited about the prospect of the city.

They arrive in front of Lexa’s home, where Lexa stops and turns around.

“I can offer you each a private room,” she glances at Clarke, “if you wish to sleep by yourself.”

“We’ll share,” Clarke cuts in, and Raven feels a sense of relief at the words. She doesn’t particularly want to share a room with Clarke, in her current state, but her willingness to do so reassures Raven that she harbors no hard feelings about her newfound friendship with Lexa.

Lexa shows them to their temporary home, a few houses down from Lexa’s own, and excuses herself after wishing them a good night of rest. There are enough furs scattered around the room to comfortably allow five people to sleep, and Raven lies down fully dressed near one of the walls, barely noticing Clarke dropping her bear fur and making her bed next to hers before letting herself fall asleep.

She wakes to pained whimpers and shuffling right behind her, turning around to find Clarke in the middle of what looks like a bad dream, brow creased, hands holding on tightly to the fur thrown over her. It’s still pitch dark outside, and Octavia is sound asleep on the other side of Clarke’s body. Raven has always been a light sleeper, ever since she can remember at least, the sound of breaking glass and drunken rambling a regular sign of her mother’s distress.

Sitting up in her bed, she approaches Clarke’s side, calls her name, gently trying to shake her awake.

This results in a knife to Raven’s throat, as Clarke grabs the hand that was previously on her shoulder – a knife that had apparently been under Clarke’s pillow all night.

“Woah, woah,” Raven whispers, “it’s just me.”

Clarke sits up, instantly dropping the knife. “Sorry,” she mumbles, still visibly shaken from her nightmare.

“Do you always sleep with a weapon,” Raven lightly jokes, in an attempt to bring her back to reality.

“I do, now,” is Clarke’s response, once her breathing has returned to normal, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, the knife didn’t scare me,” she answers. “It’s common occurrence around here.” She nods to Octavia, earning a small smile from Clarke. “The nightmares, on the other hand,” she pauses, trying to meet Clarke’s eyes, “Do they happen often?”

“Yeah,” she’s playing with her own fingers, and Raven feels the urge to reach out and take her hand, but she represses it, for fear of agitating her further, “ever since Mount Weather.”

“I’m sorry,” the words fall short of comforting, but Raven can’t think of anything else to say.

“It’s not your fault,” Clarke smiles sadly, the shadow of tears not far beneath the surface of her eyes, “I deserve this.”

“You don’t,” Raven scoots closer, sitting next to her “you did what was needed.”

Clarke turns her head to meet her eyes, and Raven gets distracted, briefly feeling at a loss for words.

“You know, when I saw what happened to Gustus, the way his own people killed him,” she eventually continues, “I understood what you did for Finn,” she hears Clarke let out a shaky breath, “what it meant. You make hard decisions, Clarke, it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

She feels Clarke rest her head against her shoulder. The night is quiet outside, and Raven feels a sense of serenity she has rarely felt since she crashed on Earth.

“I would’ve never…” Clarke whispers, fidgeting with the fabric of her pants, “you know, with Finn. If I’d known about you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Raven answers truthfully. “I can’t say that I blame him,” she glances back at Clarke when she feels her raise her head from Raven’s shoulder, finding indecipherable dark eyes looking back at her.

Raven chuckles nervously, shifting under Clarke’s stare. “We should try to sleep.”

“We should,” Clarke agrees, not taking her eyes off Raven.

Raven starts shuffling back to her own bed, but she feels a hand tentatively grabbing around her wrist, making her look back to where Clarke is sitting.

“Can you stay?” There’s a vulnerability to the request that Raven isn’t used to seeing in Clarke, and it makes her nod almost immediately. She lays down next to her, careful to leave enough room for Clarke to be comfortable, but when Clarke settles down, there is no space between their bodies. In that moment, Raven is certain her heart is trying to leave her chest, especially when Clarke’s fingers graze her hand, eventually intertwining themselves with Raven’s own fingers.

 

***

 

When they see Lexa the next day, she has changed out of her old clothes, and has clearly had time to clean herself before meeting them. All three of them had done the same in the morning, and if Clarke didn’t still feel the pull of deep seated anger, she might have taken more time to enjoy the sight before her, might have let her eyes trail over Lexa’s face, more appealing than she’d ever seen it before. This Lexa, free from the confines of war responsibilities, finally in her own home, seemed like a different person, one that Clarke had only before seen in glimpses

She’d woken up to the feeling of Raven’s breath against her neck, finding her curled up around her body, her hand lazily strewn over her stomach, which had been a welcome sensation after so many months of isolation. The embarrassment on Raven’s face when she had carefully woken her up had turned out to be even more satisfying, bringing a genuine smile to Clarke’s face. Even after Raven softly shoved her away, muttering a light _shut up_ while burying her face in her pillow, Clarke hadn’t been able to dampen the rush of affection that she was feeling.

“Good morning,” Lexa greets them once they’ve reached the front of her home, “I thought we could take a walk around the city. If you’re going to sign an alliance, you may want to learn more about my people.”

“Yeah, informed decisions and all that,” Raven chips in, “lead the way,” she says to Lexa, before turning toward Clarke and Octavia for any signs of disagreement. Without a word, both of them follow after Raven, who’s already walking next to Lexa with an excited look on her face.

Even in more ordinary clothing, Clarke can see the way Lexa commands respect as she walks through the streets of Polis. When the people greet her, it isn’t with caution, or out of obligation, but as if her devotion to them was mirrored by their sincere support. It is a strange sight to see Lexa smiling so freely, at the antics of little children, speaking with their parents words that Clarke doesn’t understand but knowns to be good-natured. Clarke understands politics, knows the importance of public opinion for a leader, but there is in Lexa’s interactions something that goes beyond superficial niceties.

She’s hanging back with Octavia, content to simply observe as Lexa makes her way through the city, when Raven pops up in between them, throwing an arm over their shoulders, a delighted smile across her face.

“This place is amazing,” she says, looking around, “I want to live here.”

Octavia chuckles, lightly bumping her hip against Raven’s. “I know you and Lexa are friends now,” she says, mockingly stressing the name, “but isn’t that kind of fast?”

The teasing in Octavia’s voice feels right, like they’re back at the Drop Ship, before all the decisions and the grief, when they were just teenagers with a second chance.

“You can talk, Pocahontas,” Raven answers, “you and Lincoln aren’t exactly going slow.”

“Are you comparing me and Lincoln to you and Lexa?” Octavia fires back, turning her head towards Raven.

“No,” she laughs, looking away from Octavia to meet Clarke’s eyes for an instant, “don’t be an idiot. Have you seen the mechanics they’ve got going around here, though? Shit, I’d move here just for that. And the architecture?” Raven whistles appreciatively, catching Lexa’s attention from where she’s standing a few feet ahead of them.

Excusing herself from the people she’s with, she walks back to where they are. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” she asks, smiling at Raven’s behavior.

“Raven, mostly,” Clarke answers, but there’s no real sting to her words.

“I need to see Indra, have her catch me up on what I missed while I was away,” Lexa tells them, “If you wish to join me for dinner, tonight, tables will be set for a banquet, in the center of the town.” At the lack of answer, she looks to Clarke. “Most of the town will be there. You do not have to sit at my table, if that’s what’s holding you back.” She starts walking away, only to turn around a few steps later. “I hope to see you there.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Raven intervenes. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not missing this.”

“We do have to eat.” Octavia shrugs, looking at Clarke.

“Come on, let’s go visit some more,” Raven says, dragging them both by the hand, as they try not to laugh at her childlike enjoyment of the city. “I saw a weapons shop nearby that looked like Octavia’s version of a wet dream.”

By nightfall, Polis looks even more beautiful than when they first arrived. The central square is lit up by lanterns and candles, resting on tables filled with all kinds of food and beverages, already surrounded by people of all ages. As they approach the main table toward the center of the square – after some convincing on Raven’s part – Lexa stands up to welcome them.

She’s wearing a dark blue gown, flowing down to her ankles, and her hair is hanging loose over her shoulder, light brown waves reflecting the light flickering from the candles. When she smiles and gestures for them to take a seat, the surrounding glow softening the edges of her face, Clarke feels the breath catch in her throat. She averts her eyes, trying to gain back her composure despite the sight in front of her.

After they’ve sat down – Raven directly cross from Lexa, with Clarke to her right and Octavia to her left – Lexa raises her glass, and clears her throat, quickly gaining the attention of the people all around the square.

“To our guests, from Skaikru,” she pauses, looking at all three of them “and may this meal be the first of many between our people.”

She sits back down under the cheers of her people, and everyone starts eating as conversation picks up again. Raven immediately digs in, helping herself to the wine in front of her, and even Clarke has to admit that the food is delicious. The atmosphere is warm, and the rumbling of Trigedasleng mixed with the occasional English phrase is oddly soothing to Clarke’s ears.

As the night goes on, Clarke feels herself melting into the jovial mood, only snapping back from time to time, finds herself stealing glances at Lexa every so often. She looks untroubled, the shade of pink high on her cheekbones a stark contrast to the familiar black of her war paint.

The feeling of Raven suddenly leaning into her snaps her out of her thoughts, and she looks at her with an amused smile.

“Y’know,” Raven says, slightly slurring the words, “I didn’t get what Finn saw in you at first.”

“You might want to slow down on the wine, Reyes,” Clarke jokes, lightly poking at her side with her elbow.

“I’m serious”, she continues, “I was jealous of him,” her face scrunches up in confusion at her own words, “I mean of you. For being with him.” She takes another gulp of her glass. “I mean, you already had your mom- your mom is really nice, Clarke.” She seems to lose her train of thought for an instant. “You had your mom, and then you had your- my- you had Finn.”

Clarke keeps silent, trying to figure out where Raven is going. She can see Lexa briefly looking at them from the opposite of the table.

“And then you… you said you’d pick me first,” Raven laughs, “but there’s Lexa.” She straightens up again, looking at Clarke with glossed over eyes. “You’re a good person, Clarke.”

Clarke feels the knot in her stomach that had slowly left during the evening coming back progressively, and she stands up immediately, earning looks from the people around them.

“I’m taking her to bed,” she says to Octavia who despite being engrossed in a conversation with the grounder to her left seems momentarily worried about Raven. Turning to Lexa, she adds, “Thank you for the meal, Commander.”

“Do you need help accompanying Raven back to your room,” Lexa asks, already getting to her feet.

“I’ll manage,” Clarke answers, “but thank you.” She smiles gratefully, receiving a small nod as a response.

Putting her arm around Raven’s waist and Raven’s arm around her neck, she starts walking back to their quarters, trying to manage Raven’s drunk swaying on top of her limp.

Once they’re away from all the noise, Clarke hears Raven sigh wistfully. “Lexa is beautiful.”

Clarke stifles a laugh. “She is.”

“She likes you,” Raven continues, undeterred.

“She likes you too,” Clarke answers softly.

“Not the way she likes you,” Raven says, “I’ve seen how she looks at you.”

Stumbling through the door to sit on her bed, Raven kicks off her shoes. “Everyone likes you.”

Clarke kneels down in front of Raven, helping her take off her jacket. “Do _you_ like me?” she asks teasingly.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Raven smiles, swaying closer to Clarke’s face.

“It is now,” Clarke answers, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You should get some sleep,” she says, “I’ll stay with you.”

Falling back against her bed, Raven mumbles a thank you, and Clarke feels that rush of affection making its way back to the surface, stretching her face into a grin.

 

***

 

It is well into the morning, and Lexa is pacing back and forth in the war room, waiting for Clarke to show. She’d sent a guard to get her half an hour ago, but they still hadn’t arrived, and Lexa was starting to worry about Clarke’s willingness to sign the alliance. Last night had renewed her hope for the merging of their people, the sight of Octavia talking so freely with her people, and of Raven heartily enjoying the banquet a glimpse of a possible future. But the wait is allowing the doubt to creep back in.

Just then, the door swings open, and Clarke walks in, unfazed, with Lexa’s guard in tow. She stands there, staring down at her, until Lexa raises her hand towards the guard. “Leave us.”

“Have a seat, Clarke,” she says, pointing to one of the chairs.

“I’m good,” Clarke answers, crossing her hands behind her back and getting closer. “You wanted to talk about the alliance?”

“Yes,” she says, “we need to discuss the terms.”

“The terms?” Clarke asks, “I thought this was just a truce.”

“Yes and no,” Lexa answers, “we each promise not to attack, and in exchange, the Coalition offers its support and protection against any other enemy you may face.”

“And what do you want from us?” Clarke crosses her arms, her face betraying a mix of anger and caution.

Lexa lowers her head, sensing the accusation in her tone. “Nothing,” she answers, “consider it compensation. For Mount Weather.” She wills her voice to keep steady when she pronounces the last words, even as Clarke’s resentment grow more obvious in her expression.

“What’s to tell us you’ll respect the alliance?” Clarke asks, “You’ve betrayed us before, what would stop you from doing it again the next time your people are in danger?”

Lexa swallows, fighting back the urge to answer as anything other than _Heda_. “The alliance makes it official. Breaking that alliance would not only be an act of war, it would make me lose the respect of my people, lose my legitimacy as their leader.”

“Your people,” Clarke repeats, letting out a humorless laugh, “they’re all that matter, aren’t they?”

“This would make you my people,” Lexa says, “in some way,” she adds in a softer voice.

“I don’t _want_ to be your people,” Clarke snaps, “not after what you did.”

“You do not have to be,” Lexa tries to appease her, “this alliance is merely a way for both of our people to remain unharmed.” Taking a breath, she steps closer to Clarke. “I know you cannot forgive me for the actions I took as a Commander, Clarke, but as a leader yourself-“

“I don’t care!” Clarke finally lashes out, “You gave me _hope_ , Lexa, how do you think it made me feel when you gave up on us the minute you saw an opportunity to save your people?”

Lexa feels her composure slip for an instant, seeing the tears welling in Clarke’s eyes. “I cannot imagine,” she says, lowering her head “I’m sorry that I had to leave you.”

Clarke is looking at her, jaw and fists tight, and Lexa feels unnerved, like Clarke is expecting her to give a valid excuse, like she might break down or hit Lexa if she chooses the wrong words.

“Part of the role of Commander is carrying the weight of hard decisions, so that my people don’t have to.” She pauses, looking to Clarke, “If it were possible, I would take on your burden as well, Clarke.” She moves to stand in front of her, reaching out, unable to stop her hand from shaking until it makes contact with Clarke’s, carefully taking hold of it. “I never wanted you to know this feeling.”

“But I do,” Clarke answers, looking down at their hands. She steps back, slowly letting go, raising her eyes to meet Lexa’s. “I’ll sign the alliance. It’s the right thing to do for everyone.”

She starts to walk towards the door, not giving Lexa a chance to reply, but before she steps out, she looks back one last time. “You were right about Polis, though,” she says, “being here did change things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempted trigedasleng translations  
> "Stand down."  
> "Sorry, Commander, we hadn't seen you."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm going back to Camp Jaha," Octavia tells them one morning, during breakfast, "as soon as possible." At the confused looks on Clarke and Raven's faces, she continues. "We should announce the alliance to our people before they do something stupid. I'm not much use here. And I kind of want to see Lincoln and Bellamy too."

"We should all go back, then," Clarke answers, "the alliance has been signed, there's no reason for us to stay."

Raven doesn't say anything, but she feels a tug in her chest at the idea of leaving Polis. It's not that she doesn't want to see their friends again, but Camp Jaha had stopped feeling like home some time ago, and she'd found in Polis something that she'd struggled to find there – acceptance, peace of mind, she's not quite sure, much less sure even of the reasons for that feeling.

"We could," Octavia says, "or you guys could stay here a while longer, until the alliance has been settled with people back at Camp. If you're here of your own free will, Clarke, it might be easier to get them to accept it. To forgive Lexa." The last words are carefully uttered.

Clarke seems to take in the information, as Octavia glances at Raven for support.

"I'll stay," she says. "It's not like I have much to go back home to." Her tone is light even if the words feel heavy, and Octavia gives her a supportive smile.

"Alright," Clarke answers after a while, getting to her feet, "I'll go tell Indra to get a horse ready. You should leave today."

She does in fact, leave a couple of hours later, after she's been given enough provisions to last the trip, and after quickly hugging Clarke, muttering a soft "may we meet again" near her ear that Raven barely picks up.

She hugs Raven too, tighter than she expects. "Be careful, okay," she tells her then, "I know you're in good hands, but I'd hate for anything else to happen to you."

"Admit it, you care about me," Raven jokes when she lets go, smiling harder as Octavia shakes her head.

"I love you, you idiot," Octavia answers, shoving at Raven's shoulder before throwing herself into one last hug. “I’m always on your side,” she whispers into her shoulder, and Raven can’t help the lump that forms in her throat, or the tears that threaten to come out at the sudden declaration.

Squeezing her arms tighter around Octavia, she answers. “Yeah, me too. Be safe out there.” She steps back, laughing softly at their unexpected burst of emotion. “I’ll see you soon.”

That night, after Octavia’s departure, Lexa announces the alliance to her people, and is met by enthusiastic cheers from the crowd. A celebration ensues, which Raven is finding out to be common occurrence among the grounders – she can still remember the pounding in her head that morning a couple days ago.

After dinner, when both of them are feeling the pleasant haze of celebration; after Lexa has excused herself from the party, and the people are going back to their own homes and the town square is quieting down, Raven grabs Clarke’s hand and leads her down narrow streets, ending up behind a house, standing on a grass clearing mostly concealed from sight.

“I saw this the last time I was walking around the city,” Raven explains when she sees the look on Clarke’s face. “You need a break, and I thought this was the perfect place for that.” She smiles over her shoulder as she walks towards the middle of the clearing, sitting down and looking up toward the sky.

“I thought we’d able to see the night sky, from here,” she says, feeling Clarke sitting cross legged right next to her. “I was right.” She can’t help the beaming smile that breaks out across her face, taking in the stars above her head, the enjoyable chill of the night breeze and the contrasting heat coming off of Clarke’s body on her right.

“Can you believe we were up there just a few month ago,” Clarke asks, leaning against Raven’s side.

“Well,” Raven says, “you were here first.”

“Until you feel down from the sky,” Clarke jokes. “I thought you were a shooting star, at first.”

“Did you make a wish,” Raven asks.

“I did.” Clarke laughs softly, and Raven doesn’t push, lets the conversation falter.

“The sky is different from here, isn’t it?” Raven muses after a while, lying down against the grass.

“I know,” Clarke answers, “I used to be able to draw the stars from memory, back in my cell. It’s still unfamiliar here.”

“Just as beautiful, though,” Raven says, briefly looking at Clarke.

“Yeah,” Clarke whispers. “Do you miss it? Space walking?” She turns around to face her, and Raven sits back up again.

“Sometimes,” she answers. “I wouldn’t have to drag this around in zero gravity.” She knocks on her brace, smiling at Clarke. “I like it here, though.”

“It’s growing on me,” Clarke replies, still looking into Raven’s eyes like she’s trying to see behind the surface. It makes Raven squirm a little, cheeks growing hot in the darkness. There’s just enough light to make out Clarke’s face, her eyes a reflection of the sky above them, a hint of a smile stretching her lips, and Raven can’t stop herself from leaning in, from pressing her own lips against Clarke’s.

A moment passes with no reaction, enough for Raven to pull back a fraction of an inch, before a hand on her cheek brings her back in just as she feels Clarke’s tentative response. Her lips are barely moving, but the contact is making Raven’s heart hammer away in her chest, in her ears, until she’s almost convinced Clarke can hear it herself. It’s over in seconds, Clarke pulling away slowly, eyes still closed, keeping her face close enough for Raven to feel uneven breath against her own.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Raven stutters, drawing back more aburptly when Clarke opens her eyes, “I know you and Lexa… I know you’re-”

“Raven,” Clarke interrupts.

“At least I think you guys are, I mean-” Raven keeps going, ignoring her name coming from Clarke’s lips.

“Raven!” Clarke says again, louder this time, effectively getting Raven’s attention. “Shut up.”

She’s laughing and Raven doesn’t know what to do, so she waits for Clarke to say something else. Instead, Clarke leans back in, kissing her with more intensity, both hands against her jaw, barely giving Raven time to react before she pulls away again.

“Me and Lexa are… me and Lexa,” she eventually says. “This, however. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

Raven’s mouth opens, but her answer gets lost somewhere in her throat, and Clarke starts laughing again, bright and teasing. She stands up, reaching out her hand to help Raven get up.

“Come on, Reyes,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “let’s go get some sleep.”

 

***

 

Lexa knocks three times, waiting patiently in between each knock, before entering the house where Clarke and Raven are staying. It is well into the morning, and they are usually up at this hour, but neither of them seems to be responding. When she opens the door, she finds them both asleep, a tangle of limb resting on furs, and Lexa suddenly feels like she’s intruding. Raven seems to have heard the creak of the door, her eyes opening to find Lexa’s, a sleepy smile making its way onto her face.

Removing Clarke’s arm from across her body, she sits up. “What are you doing here?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Trying not to let her sudden nervousness show, Lexa answers. “I thought you might want to continue your training.” She glances at Clarke, who seems to be sleeping, despite the noise. “I was going to do so myself, if you wish to join me.”

“Sure,” Raven answers, lightly shrugging her shoulders. She gets out of the bed, and pulls her shirt over her head before Lexa has the time to turn around. Raven doesn’t seem to mind her presence, contrary to what Lexa has heard of Sky People and modesty, but she averts her eyes anyway. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her put on one of the shirts that has been provided for her since their arrival, and the red of the fabric calls Lexa’s eyes back to Raven, to the contrasting skin of her arms as they pull it down to cover her stomach.

“What’s going on?” Lexa hears Clarke’s voice, half muffled by her pillow.

“Lexa asked me if I wanted to train with her,” Raven answers, turning around to face Clarke. “You can keep sleeping if you want.”

“No, I’ll come with.” She yawns, throwing the covers off her body. “I wanna see what she’s taught you.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Raven jokes, and Lexa is tempted to correct her, but she knows it would most likely be in vain.

They walk to Lexa’s training room in near silence, but Lexa still notices the glances between Clarke and Raven, and a feeling she hasn’t experienced since seeing Costia laughing with strange boys outside of the library makes itself known, makes her cheeks grow hot and her blood pump faster.

She enters the large circular room without hesitation, taking off her outer layers of clothing, leaving most of her upper body exposed. She can feel eyes on her, as she starts wrapping her hands, and she sees Raven walking towards the center, cane in hand.

“Widen your stance,” Lexa says over her shoulder.

Raven complies, and before she can do anything else, Lexa kicks her in the stomach, making her double over as she lets out a huff.

“No mercy today, huh?” Raven asks lightly, getting back into position.

“Your enemies will have no mercy,” Lexa answers, glancing at Clarke who is frowning at the sudden display of violence.

Lexa steps up to Raven, trying to provoke a reaction, and it works almost instantly. Raven throws her right hand in a hook, and Lexa dodges it, but she fails to see her left hand, coming straight for her chin, and her head snaps back violently.

“Are you underestimating me,” Raven teases, “even after all those sessions together. I’m hurt.” There’s a self-satisfied smile on her face, one that Lexa feels the urge to wipe off.

Raven’s upper body mobility has greatly improved, in an effort to make up for her injured leg, and Lexa’s consecutive punches miss her face every time. Even in her altered state, Lexa hesitates to attack her injured leg, and it’s enough for Raven to step to the side and kick at the back of Lexa’s knee, making her drop down.

“Don’t hold back now,” Raven says, raising her cane to her neck, tilting Lexa’s head up in a clear provoking motion. “Is it because Clarke’s watching,” she mock-whispers.

Pulling on Raven’s cane in one swift motion, Lexa grabs her wrist with her free hand, using the shoulder near Raven’s leg as leverage to bring her to the ground, face first. She brings Raven’s wrist towards her head, locking her shoulder, and lowering her lips to her ear.

“I don’t get distracted that easily,” Lexa says, voice low, eyes on Clarke, whose expression has morphed from worry to something that Lexa struggles to read.

She helps Raven up, seeing the half smile still stretching her lips, seeing it widen as she glances at Clarke.

“Enjoying the show?” Raven asks, letting go of Lexa’s hand.

“I wouldn’t turn my back to Lexa, if I were you,” Clarke advises, raising her eyebrows, but Lexa sees the tinge of red that so easily appears on her cheeks, and she can’t help but match Raven’s self-satisfied smile.

After that, their training gets almost playful, and Lexa lets herself enjoy it, forgetting for a time about responsibilities, about the world outside of that room.

 

***

 

Clarke’s hands are on Raven the moment they get back to their room, and she’s pushed against the table by the corner, Clarke’s lips crashing against hers before she can get a word out. She moves down to her jaw, kisses back up to her ear, and Raven’s hands find their way into Clarke’s hair, trying to gain some control over the situation

“So you really did enjoy it,” she says in a breathy laugh. “I-” she gets caught off by Clarke’s lips making their way back to hers, and she loses her trail of thought, leaning into the kiss, enjoying the urgency behind Clarke’s movements.

When they break apart, Clarke’s eyes look darker, her hair a mess of blonde strands, and Raven has trouble focusing on anything else.

“So was it me beating up Lexa that has you like this?” Raven jokes, resting her hands back against the table.

“Shut up.” Clarke laughs, pushing at her shoulder. “I’m still angry at her.” She kisses her again, slower. “She did kind of kick your ass there at the end, though.”

“Wow,” Raven says, repressing a smile, “thanks for the support, Clarke. You sure you’re not on her side?”

“How messed up would that be?” Clarke laughs, but she lowers her eyes, her forehead creasing with uncertainty.

“About as messed up as having feelings for the girl who slept with your boyfriend and the one who tried to bleed you to death,” Raven answers, trying to lighten the mood, but she feels her throat get tighter when Clarke’s eyes snap back to hers, searching and inquisitive.

Feeling the tension, Raven lets out a nervous chuckle, fidgeting against the table where she’s still trapped by Clarke’s body. “This is weird, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t.” Clarke rests her hand over Raven’s against the side of the table. “I can’t exactly judge you. Same boat and all that.”

“It’s just,” Raven starts, not meeting Clarke’s eyes, “when we were looking for you, it was like seeing glimpses of who she is under that title of Commander. And it’s-”

“Alluring?” Clarke cuts in, an edge to her voice that Raven can’t place.

“Yeah,” Raven answers, swallowing nervously.

“Like when she barely smiles,” Clarke says, closing the space between them, “or the way her posture changes when she relaxes.” She kisses Raven again, briefly. “How her eyes soften when she talks to you?” Clarke asks.

Raven nods, still unable to respond. She senses the change in Clarke’s demeanor, and follows along, bringing her hands back to her waist.

“That intensity in everything she does,” Clarke keeps going, infusing her next kiss with that same intensity, biting Raven’s lower lip before pulling away again. Before she can say anything else, Raven brings her back in, tugging on her shirt, relishing the surprised sound that gets muffled against her own lips.

“Like when we were fighting?” Raven asks against Clarke’s mouth, letting her hands wander under her top.

She brings her lips to Clarke’s pulse point, just as Clarke voices her approval, breathy and barely comprehensible.

“You look-” Clarke starts, her voice hitching as Raven nips at her throat, “you look good together,” she breathes out, her hands grasping at Raven’s back, her head involuntarily tilting to the side.

“I always look good.” Raven smiles against Clarke’s neck, enjoying the frustrated sigh that it elicits. She pulls back, taking in the sight before her, her fingers still tracing patterns against Clarke’s hips, feeling the heat coming off her skin.

“We should stop,” Raven says, just as Clarke starts to lean back in. Opening her mouth in protest, her eyes flicking down to Raven’s lips, Clarke eventually drops her forehead against Raven’s shoulder, letting out a defeated laugh.

“Sorry,” Raven tells her, squeezing her hands against Clarke’s sides, not really trying to sound apologetic.

“You need to get your hands off of me then, Reyes,” Clarke says, voice still lower than usual.

“My bad.” Raven complies, bringing her hands back on the table, but not before dragging her nails against Clarke’s skin one last time, delighting in the quiet swear it brings out of her.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Clarke says, stepping back from Raven’s personal space, “don’t follow me.”

Leaning back against the table, Raven can’t stop the laugh that comes out of her mouth as she watches Clarke walk out the door.

 

***

 

When Lexa steps out into the city the next morning, she finds Raven talking with one of her mechanics, excitedly gesturing at the spare parts lying on a table before them. Maks, the mechanic, is easily a foot taller than Raven and her imposing frame is as striking as her unconditional good nature. She seems to be trying really hard to follow along with Raven’s fast English, despite her rudimentary grasp on the language.

She approaches them, smiling when she sees Raven follow Maks’s line of sight to find Lexa’s eyes.

“Good morning,” Lexa says. “I see you’ve met Maks.” She nods toward her. “She’s one of our best mechanics.”

“Maks?” Raven turns toward her. “I’m Raven.” She extends her hand, laughing as Maks shakes it vigorously. “I guess I did forget about introductions.” She brings her hand back to the back of her neck, rubbing it with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I get carried away.”

Lexa feels her eyes moving from Raven’s, to her cheeks, then down to her the hand still behind her beck, before she catches herself and looks back to Maks.

“Raven is also a mechanic,” she tells her, “an excellent one as well, from what I’ve been told.”

“What you’ve been told?” Raven asks, tilting her head in confusion.

Lexa hesitates. “What Clarke told me,” she answers.

“Oh, alright,” Raven says, looking down for a second before meeting Lexa’s eyes again. “Well, she’s not wrong.” She smiles, wide and overconfident, and Lexa finds herself staring, until she’s reminded of Maks’s presence by her side.

“You should work together,” she says, “I’m certain you both have much to learn from each other.”

“I would love that,” Raven says, “but I don’t want to impose.” She turns to Maks, who’s already smiling brightly.

“I would be honored, Raven,” she sounds out her name, bringing her in for a tight hug, which seems to take Raven by surprise, and Lexa has to stifle a laugh at the scene.

“May I borrow her for a moment?” Lexa asks Maks, nodding towards Raven.

“ _Sha, Heda_ ,” Maks answers, going back to her work after waving enthusiastically at Raven.

They start walking through the city, in silence at first, but Lexa can tell Raven is waiting for her to speak first.

“I wanted to ask you,” she starts, “if you believe your people would be willing to join us in Polis.” She pauses to gauge Raven’s reaction. “For a celebration of sorts,” she adds.

“You’re big on those around here,” Raven teases. Lexa is tempted to tell her about the necessary balance of joy and grief in their lives, in times of war and times of peace, but she only smiles, waits for Raven to keep talking. “Celebrating the alliance, right?” she asks, and Lexa nods. “I mean, I’m sure some people will want to come. I don’t know if we’ll convince everyone though.”

“That is alright,” Lexa says, “I would like it known, if the alliance is accepted, that anyone of your people is welcome to stay in Polis for as long as they desire.” She looks straight into Raven’s eyes for a beat, before looking away.  “As long as they adapt to our society, of course.”

“Of course,” Raven answers, repressing a smile, “that’s good to know.” They fall silent once again, walking side by side, until Raven speaks up again.

“Why didn’t you ask Clarke?”

“She has been gone from your camp for some time,” Lexa says after some thought, “I imagined you might be better suited to answer me.”

Raven hums in agreement, and they keep walking through the city, taking in the sounds and scenes, and Lexa feels warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of sharing the culture she’s so proud of with the people she cares for.

As if her thoughts had been heard, right then, Lexa spots Clarke walking down the street, looking as distracted as Raven by the on goings of the streets of Polis. Raven sees her too, calls out her name, making Clarke look their way, but Lexa’s eyes are now on the man making his way towards Clarke. Before she has time to react, he grabs Clarke by the shoulders, throwing her to the floor.

“You don’t belong here,” he spits out, looking down at her.

By then, Lexa is next to them, followed closely by Raven, who swings her cane into his knees as soon as she’s within range, making him back up from the pain. He snarls at her, inching closer to his attacker, before Lexa unsheathes her sword, pointing it at his chest.

“One more step and it goes through your heart.” Her tone is calm, trying not to let her emotions undermine her authority.

He stops walking, but his expression is still one of anger and disgust as he stares down Raven and Clarke. “They are outsiders, _Heda_. You treat them as our own.”

“We have signed an alliance,” Lexa says, seeing Raven helping Clarke to her feet out of the corner of her eye. “They may not be your people, but you will treat them as such.” She lowers her sword, turning to look at the crowd that has formed around them. “Anyone who attacks either one of them again will answer to me.”

She turns back to the man who attacked Clarke, putting her sword back in her sheath. “Leave the city,” she says, voice hard and unwavering, “or face the consequences of your actions.”

“Don’t.” Clarke steps in, putting her hand on Lexa’s arm. “I think he got the message.”

Lexa looks from his face down to Clarke’s hand, then to her face. She nods, and the man walks away without another word.

“Thank you,” Clarke says with a small smile.

“He was going to hurt you,” Lexa states, uneasy with the attention with which Clarke is looking at her. “You should thank Raven. She attacked him first.”

“I know Raven has my back,” Clarke says, briefly looking to her left where Raven is standing.

“You still doubt my intentions,” Lexa says, masking her disappointment. “Please, follow me. You too, Raven.”

Clarke and Raven look at each other, silently questioning the request, until Raven looks back to Lexa, gesturing for her to lead the way. They walk back to her house, Lexa feeling the doubtful stares on her until they find their way inside.

“Shut the door,” she tells them, waiting until they have done so to turn her back to them, silently taking off the layers of clothing covering her upper body, keeping the last piece of fabric clutched to her chest. She hears two sets of footsteps getting closer, until she can almost feel their presence behind her.

“Roman numerals?” Raven wonders, still seemingly confused.

Amidst the black markings making their way down her spine and over her shoulder blades, smaller markings, less visible, are scattered all over her back – raised skin left behind by the blade of a knife, in varying shades of red.

“Three hundred and eighty one,” Clarke reads under her breath, and Lexa almost flinches as she feels fingers carefully tracing the numbers, the curves of the Cs, the crosses of the Xs, the angle of the L, the straight line of the I, until Clarke lets her hand drop back to her side, leaving a burning sensation behind.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Raven asks, voice careful even if the words seem blunt.

“That’s-” Clarke’s voice breaks almost imperceptibly. “That’s how many people died. In Mount Weather.”

“I had Indra do it when we got back,” Lexa says, “after we heard of your- of what happened. She was reticent at first, as I did not kill them myself.”

When the silence that follows grow to be too heavy, she pulls her top back over her head, and turns around to face Clarke.

“It might not mean anything to you, Clarke,” she says, “but this is how we bear the weight of the deaths we cause.”

“You didn’t kill the people of Mount Weather,” Clarke says, and Lexa can’t tell apart the sadness from the resentment in her voice.

“But I felt as if I did.” She steps closer to Clarke, taking comfort in the fact the she doesn’t step back. “You must believe me when I say the decision that I made was not one I lived with easily.”

She glances between Clarke and Raven, taking in their reactions. “Now that our people have allied,” she says, inhaling deeply, “my head will no longer have to take precedent over my heart.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, doesn’t meet Lexa’s eyes either. “I- I have to go.”

She walks out the door, leaving Lexa with Raven, who seems unsure of what to do, glancing between Lexa and the door.

“She’ll be back,” Raven says once she’s settled her eyes on Lexa, a reassuring smile on her face, “trust me.”

Lexa smiles back, willing herself to believe her words instead of the voice inside her head.

“I should…” Raven tells her, nodding towards the door.

“Of course,” Lexa says, swallowing back her own needs, “go after Clarke.”

 

***

 

Raven finds Clarke sitting on her bed, staring at the bear fur that used to sit on her shoulders, now resting in her hands. She sits across from her, her legs straight out on the ground so as not to put strain on her brace, and waits silently for Clarke to begin talking.

After a few moments of quiet, she does. “I don’t know how to stop blaming her.” She sighs heavily, looking up look at Raven. “And I don’t know how to reconcile that with the feelings I still have for her.”

Raven doesn’t say anything at first, takes the fur from Clarke’s hands. “This isn’t you,” she starts, “what you did to survive doesn’t define you.”

Clarke lets out a laugh. “Please get out of my head,” she says jokingly, playing with her own fingers.

“As for Lexa,” Raven keeps going, “you heard her. She fixed the underlying conflict that led to her decision, Clarke. If that’s not proof of how much she wishes she could’ve done differently, I don’t know what is.”

Clarke stays silent, looking back down at the ground, and Raven waits again for her to say the first words.

“I was going to the Ice Nation for an alliance,” Clarke says eventually, “when you found me. I thought it would be good for the Sky People.” She glances up at Raven for a second. “But mostly I thought it would hurt Lexa. They- they killed her girlfriend. Loved one. Whatever.”

“But you didn’t,” Raven says, “you came with us instead. You made an alliance with Lexa.”

“I would have. If you hadn’t found me,” Clarke tells her, shame lowering her eyes once again to the floor.

“But you didn’t,” Raven insists, “you came here, and worked things out with Lexa instead. For your people. You could’ve chosen revenge, even with us there.”

Clarke doesn’t respond, but her eyes meet Raven’s again.

“If you could look past her mistakes for the good of everyone else, why can’t you do the same for your own good?”

“Are you saying being with Lexa would be good for me?” Clarke asks, raising her eyebrows in a mix of surprise and derision.

“I’m saying the push and pull you have going on right now can’t be that healthy,” Raven answers. “You clearly still have intense feelings for her.”

Clarke sighs again, moving to sit next to her, dragging Raven’s legs onto her lap and resting her hands against her brace.

“Why are you insisting on this anyway?” she asks, looking at Raven.

“I guess I just want you to be happy,” she answers, smiling softly, her eyes on Clarke’s hands

After a few seconds, she feels Clarke’s lips press against her cheek, short and soft, but enough for Raven to feel the tears trailing down Clarke’s cheeks.

“Thank you,” Clarke says, resting her forehead against Raven’s temple. Removing her legs from her lap, she gets up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“You do that.” Raven smiles up at Clarke, lightly kicking at her ankle, keeping her eyes on her until she disappears through the door.

 

***

 

Clarke doesn’t wait for an answer after she knocks, pushes the door open to find Lexa leaning over a table, absentmindedly looking over some scattered papers. She looks up when she hears Clarke entering, surprise evident on her face.

She paces around for a few moments, trying to find her words, under Lexa’s concerned eyes. Eventually, she settles down, watching as Lexa moves to the other side of the table, closer to Clarke, hints of worry still visible in her expression.

“I’m glad you found me when you did,” she blurts out, looking straight into Lexa’s eyes.

“You are?” Lexa asks, her tone guarded, even as her eyes seem to widen for an instant in a show of hope.

“Yes,” she answers, determination in her voice, “I was going to do something I would’ve regretted.”

“What-” Lexa clears her throat. “What were you going to do?”

Clarke steps closer, willing herself not to look away. “I wanted revenge,” she says. “I was going to go to the Ice Nation. For an alliance.” She pauses, watching as Lexa’s face falls for a moment, before going back to a mask of indifference. “It would’ve been rash. I was hurting, and I wanted to get back at you. I’m sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize,” Lexa says, straightening her shoulders. “It would have been justified.”

“ _Jus drein jus daun_ , right?” Clarke says, tilting her head, smiling softly.

“Yes,” Lexa answers, lowering her eyes to the ground.

Clarke takes a few more steps, coming to a stop in front of Lexa. She reaches out to grab her hand, hearing the hitch in Lexa’s breath, as her eyes meet hers, wide and apprehensive. In that moment, Clarke feels like she’s holding Lexa’s heart in her hands, and the power makes her head spin.

“Like I said,” she tells her, “I’m glad you found me when you did.”

“I did not launch the search,” Lexa says, her eyes roaming over Clarke’s face nervously.

“I know,” Clarke replies, feeling herself swaying closer.

“Raven and Octavia are who you should be thanking,” she continues.

“I know,” Clarke repeats, her eyes dropping to Lexa’s mouth, in time to watch her nervously lick her lips.

“You are still…” She trails off when Clarke brings her free hand under her jaw, feeling her pulse beating wildly under her palm. “You are…” Her eyes mirror Clarke’s, falling to her now parted lips, gradually getting closer to Lexa’s own.

“I know,” Clarke breathes out.

They stay like that for a moment, neither of them moving, until Lexa opens her mouth to speak again. Before she can get anything out, Clarke kisses her, hard and desperate, feeling Lexa soften under her hands, her shoulders dropping, melting back against the table, forcing Clarke to lean forward to keep their lips together. When Lexa tries to break away to breath, Clarke bites her bottom lip, a little too hard.

“Are you sure?” Lexa asks, turning her head to the side, trying to control her breathing.

Clarke grabs her face, forcing it back towards her. “Please,” she kisses her again, softer, letting go of the remnants of her anger.

Lexa’s hands come up around her neck, still hesitant, and Clarke pulls her closer, enjoys the way her back arches against her hands when she connects their lips once more. Lexa is letting herself be guided, opening her mouth when Clarke prompts her to. She lets herself be lifted onto the table, holding onto Clarke’s neck for balance, crossing her legs behind Clarke’s back. The gesture sets off something inside of Clarke, the urge that she’d been denying coming back up to the surface, burning through everything else as her hands grasp tighter at the fabric of Lexa’s top, frantically tugging on it.

Clarke hears the knock on the door, faintly at first, until it makes its way to the front of her mind, and she reluctantly pulls away. Lexa doesn’t seem to hear the noise; she leans forward to meet Clarke’s lips again, pulling at the back of her neck, only opening her eyes when she feels Clarke resisting. Clarke takes in the hooded stare, the parted lips and the shallow breathing, and she’s tempted to ignore whoever’s at the door, but they knock again, and this time Lexa hears it too.

Nudging Clarke away with an apologetic smile, she get down from the table before fixing her top, and faces the door.

“Enter,” she says, and all traces of the girl that melted under Clarke’s hands are gone, replaced once again by the Commander.

The door opens, and one of Lexa’s guards steps in. “Sky People at the gates, _Heda_ ,” he says, “they wish to see you.”

Looking briefly at Clarke, she nods. “How many of them?”

“I was not told,” he replies.

With a sound of agreement, Lexa sends him on his way after assuring her presence at the gates as soon as possible.

“Octavia?” Clarke ponders out loud when he’s gone, watching as Lexa fastens her jacket and walks to the door.

“Come,” Lexa says as an answer, promptly stepping outside.

“I have to get Raven,” Clarke replies, looking towards their house. “We’ll meet you there.”


	6. Chapter 6

They’re wanted back at Camp Jaha. As Octavia explains to them once she’s through the gates, Lexa needs to be there if they want the alliance to hold. While most of their people seem to have taken to the idea, some are still harboring resentment toward the grounders, and Lexa’s benevolent presence at camp could help ease some of those feelings. It is quickly decided, despite a few protests from Lexa’s advisors, that she should be unaccompanied by guards or warriors, so as to avoid anything that would be interpreted as a display of force. The four of them head out the next day, as an orange glow is just starting to eat away at the night blue sky.

As they near camp by early morning light a few days later, Clarke starts to see the change in Lexa’s demeanor, her face, still free of war paint, adopting a determined expression against the nervousness visible in the clench of her hands around the reins. Clarke isn’t faring any better, the thoughts of having to face her people again racing through her mind even as she tries to compose herself. They’ve been sharing glances all throughout the ride back, the tension of their interrupted moment still hanging in the air despite the issues at hand.

Raven is by Octavia’s side, and she doesn’t seem as affected by their imminent arrival – if the light hearted chatter the two of them are sharing is any indication.

Even with the apprehension filling her head, Clarke finds comfort in the people surrounding her, in Lexa's agitation, in Raven's excitement, and in Octavia's assurance.

As they walk through the camp gates, and her heart picks up at the sight of the people waiting for them, the knowledge that she isn't facing the situation alone makes her stand up a little taller.

They get down from their horses, and Monty is the first to come greet them, hugging Clarke tightly as soon as her feet are on the ground.

"Welcome back," he whispers into her ear when they move apart, and the lump in her throat gets bigger even as she smiles at him.

She sees Harper and Raven excitedly speaking, wide smiles on both of their faces, until Jasper steps in for an elaborate handshake that leaves the three of them laughing.

Lexa hasn't moved from where she dismounted, and Clarke has never seen her look quite as uncertain as she does now. Just as she's ready to go over to her side, she sees Bellamy approaching, a cautious smile on his face.

"Hey," he says when he’s finally close enough. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the words get lost when Clarke throws her arms around his neck and buries her head in his neck. His arms lace around her waist a second after, and she feels the tears burning, dampening his shirt as she finally lets herself go.

He holds her until she stops crying, rubbing his hands up and down her back, and when she finally lets go of him, all traces of doubt are gone from his face, replaced by a soft smile as he holds onto both of her hands.

“You’re gonna make a guy feel bad,” he jokes. “I’m not used to girls crying when they see my face.”

“Oh really?” she says, smiling back at him, “I would’ve thought the opposite.”

He tilts his head and grins at her, that boyish grin that she likes so much, and for a moment it feels like everything is back to normal, like they’re still teenagers without the weight of an entire civilization on their shoulders.

Lexa is now talking to Clarke’s mother, and she’s pretty sure she’s never seen anyone look as uncomfortable as Lexa does in that moment. With one last squeeze of her hands around Bellamy’s, she goes over to where they’re standing, soon joined by Raven’s who seems to have also noticed the situation.

“Clarke!” Her mother exclaims when she sees her, bringing her close and squeezing her tight for a few seconds. “I’m so happy to see you,” she tells her, not loud enough for the others to hear.

“Me too, mom,” Clarke answers, suddenly choking up again.

Her mother lets go, smiling and mirroring Clarke’s gesture when she goes to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“I was just telling Lexa here how happy we are about the alliance,” she says. “Most of us, anyway,” she adds, her face sobering up.

“We are all relieved to put conflict behind us,” Lexa replies, looking at Clarke’s mother, “and if my presence here can help hurry the process, I am honored to be with your people, Chancelor.”

Her mother hums in agreement. “I believe it will,” she says. “But please, if we are to live together, call me Abby.”

Lexa nods shortly, and Clarke can tell that she is not yet at ease here, away from the people that usually surround her.

Right then, Raven steps in, grabbing onto Lexa’s arm and turning to Clarke’s mother. “I’ll take her to my tent,” she tells them, already heading there. “You guys reconnect or something.”

“Her tent?” her mother asks, perplexed by Raven’s words.

“We thought it’d be safer for Lexa not to sleep on her own,” Clarke answers, still smiling at Raven’s antics. When she turns around she finds her mother’s questioning stare on her. “We don’t know how people might react to her presence here,” she defends. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

 

***

 

Raven greets almost every person they cross paths with on the way to her tent, but Lexa can see the way they glance at her even as they return Raven’s smile. She has gotten used to the attention that comes with leading, but this is of a different kind, a kind that makes her grow uneasy with her decision to come alone.

Raven’s presence by her side does lessen the feeling of unfamiliarity, however, and even more so when they arrive to the quiet of her tent.

“Well, this is it,” she says, motioning around the small space. Taking off her jacket, she smiles back at Lexa, pointing to the one chair in the tent. “Take a seat,” she says, throwing her jacket onto the bed. “ _Mi casa es su casa_ , Commander.” She smiles brightly, briefly, but something about the way her eyes light up with it reminds her of Costia, and her heart makes itself known against her chest.

She sits down, finding herself missing the armrests of her throne when her hands fail to settle down naturally, stiffly coming to rest on her thighs instead. Raven is looking at her, the corners of her mouth lifted up in amusement.

“You seem nervous,” she points out.

Lexa crosses her arms, straightening her back as she tries to find the right words to answer. “I am… unaccustomed to travelling alone into foreign territories.”

“You’re not alone,” Raven tells her, tilting her head to one side. “Clarke and I are here.”

Lexa takes in the words, tries not to assign meaning that isn’t there. “Travelling without my people,” she rectifies.

“I thought we were your people now,” Raven teases, and Lexa feels herself smiling despite the tension still running through her body.

In that moment the makeshift door to Raven’s tent opens, and Clarke steps in. Lexa immediately gets to her feet, earning a puzzled look from Raven.

“My mom wants you to give a speech,” Clarke starts, eyes set on Lexa. “To sell the alliance,” she elaborates, looking back and forth between her and Raven.

Lexa links her hands behind her back, silently prays that the gesture counters the nervousness she seems to be exuding ever since she arrived at Camp Jaha.

“When does the Chancellor want me to give this speech?” She asks, voice steady.

“As soon as possible,” Clarke answers. “She doesn’t want to take any chances, considering the hostile undercurrent that’s running through camp.”

“Very well,” Lexa says, shifting on her feet, “Please, tell your mother I will do so.”

There is an unspoken tension in the air, one that is without a doubt linked to Clarke’s and her encounter, before they left for Camp Jaha, and Raven must feel it as well. She steps forward, glancing between Clarke and her. “I’ll go,” she says, “leave you guys to,” she pauses, gesturing haphazardly with her hands, “talk, or whatever.” Her eyes drop to the floor as she starts walking toward the exit.

Before Lexa can say anything, Clarke’s hand is around Raven’s arm, preventing her from going any further.

“Stay,” she says, trying to meet Raven’s eyes, her hand slipping down to take a hold of Raven’s. Lexa feels that edge again, the one that makes her feel like she’s intruding on something she should not be witnessing, but the feeling doesn’t last, dissipates when Clarke turns to her, eyes softer than before. “We both want you here.” Letting go of Raven’s hand, she keeps going. “Plus, I’m pretty sure my mom wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway,” she jokes, “she’ll be ready when you are, Lexa.”

Both of them are facing Lexa, now, and she feels the urge to swallow before she can say anything else. “I need help,” she blurts out, mentally berating herself when she sees the amusement on Raven’s face.

“With?” Clarke asks, looking at Raven who only shrugs in response.

“The war paint,” she answers. “It’s- it’s ceremonial. I should not conduct official business without it.”

“You brought some?” Raven inquires, a half smile stretching her lips.

Lexa nods, going over to the satchel she brought with her, taking out a small container, the edges of which are stained with black. She hands it over to Clarke.

“Okay, just,” Clarke says, opening it and rubbing her fingers through the black grease, “stand still.”

For the first time in months, Lexa lets herself look at Clarke. She takes in the unruly blonde hair, shorter than when she last saw her, the strands uneven, rashly cut off; the faint dark circles lining the underside of her eyes; the lines of her cheeks eroded by harsh conditions; and her lips, light pink stained with darker shades of red, where the thin skin has been worn down to its inner layers by the cold. She wants nothing more than to kiss her again.

Her fingers are tracing over her cheekbones, maddeningly slow, running down her cheeks, then back up again. She sinks her thumb into the black paint, bringing it right underneath her eye, from one corner to the other. As she switches over to the other side, Lexa glances sideways to see Raven grab a hold of her shoulder armor, the red fabric tumbling to the ground.

“Do you need this too?” Raven asks, already examining the piece from every angle.

Lexa takes advantage of the pause in Clarke’s movements to nod her head. The fingers are back on her soon after, pressing against her temple far too shortly before going over her eyebrow and sinking down the side of her eye again.

She feels Raven’s presence behind her before she sees her move, and the weight of her shoulder piece comes to rest on her left side. Raven’s hands come around her torso, as slow and self-assured as Clarke’s on her face, and Lexa feels the dryness in her throat as vividly as she does the simmering heat setting her motionless body aflame.

Raven’s hands meet right below her sternum, pulling against the straps to tighten them, before clasping them together with deft fingers. When she’s done her hands pull on the straps one last time, earning a disapproving sound from Clarke as Lexa’s upper body jerks with the movement.

“Sorry,” she says, tone disproving her words. Her breath hits Lexa’s cheek, her face much closer to her shoulder than it was before. She’s watching Clarke work, and from the side glance Lexa manages to steal, she is just as entranced as Lexa was only minutes ago. She still manages to break away from Clarke’s movements to wipe away at a smudge on Lexa’s cheek, and Lexa releases a breath far too sharply for it to go unnoticed. Sure enough, Clarke’s eyes snap back to hers, her hand faltering against her right temple.

“Everything okay?” She asks, brow furrowing.

Clearing her throat, Lexa nods shortly.

“You- you told me a few days ago,” she starts when Clarke resumes applying the paint on her face, “that I could not atone, until you stopped feeling guilt over the lives you took.”

Clarke’s face twists into a frown. “That’s not really what I-”

“I do not,” she cuts in, “know how to do that.” She feels Raven fidget behind her, fights down the urge to reach out a reassuring hand. “I do know, however, that letting the guilt foster only brings on more darkness. I have felt guilt over many. Over Costia. Over you.” She pauses, willing herself not to look away when Clarke’s eyes meet hers. “I grew to believe that love was weakness. I felt weak-” Her throat gets tighter, forcing her to swallow before she can continue, “I felt weak after every death of someone that I cherished. It was all I knew, ever since childhood.”

Turning her head to the side, she grabs Clarke’s hand, the one that is still resting motionless against the side of her face.

Raven’s voice comes up from behind her, small and hesitant. “I think you guys should… have this conversation alone.”

Instantly, Lexa turns sideways, letting go of Clarke’s hand to look at Raven. “Please, stay,” she says, mirroring Clarke’s earlier demand. “You are as much a part of what I need to say as Clarke is.”

She glances between the both of them, linking her hands in front of her body. “Your… presence, in my life” she says, carefully choosing her words, “has led me to rethink that assessment.” She sees Raven drop her eyes to the floor, and her heart beats harder against her chest, the need to comfort making itself known again. “I do not expect anything from either of you,” she continues, “but the impact you have had on my life has been too great to be left unsaid.”

Taking in the silence that follows, she squares her shoulders, pointing to the container in Clarke’s hands. “Are you finished?”

Clarke nods, still quiet, and Lexa grabs the paint, returning it to her bag. “Thank you,” she says, more composed than before, despite the burning sensation in her chest. “I will go see the Chancellor.”

When she walks to the exit, no one tries to stop her, and the feeling in her chest spreads to her throat, makes it harder to swallow down the sting.

 

***  

 

A crowd is already gathered in front of the makeshift stage that’s been installed when Clarke and Raven walk out of the tent. They don’t talk, after Lexa leaves, exchange a look that leaves much unsaid before going outside to join the rest of the camp inhabitants.

Clarke spots her mom to the side. She’s talking to Lexa, smiling softly as Lexa turns around to get to the center of platform. Clarke walks over to where her mother is standing, Raven following right behind her.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” She smiles at both of them, and nods her head towards Lexa. “She seemed really intent on making this work. I don’t know what you three did in Polis, but it worked.”

Clarke glances at Raven, sees her looking back at her with her eyebrows raised, mockingly mirroring her mother’s question. She wants to laugh, but there is a sudden silence replacing the murmur of the crowd, and their eyes are drawn to the stage.

Lexa, in full Commander attire, towering over them from her podium, is an entirely different presence from the girl who was spilling her heart to them mere minutes ago. She hasn’t started talking yet, but she has already grabbed the attention of every person in attendance. Clarke feels a swell of pride at the thought, feels the urge to grab Raven’s hand as if the feeling could be transmitted by touch. When she looks over, it becomes apparent that the gesture would be redundant, if the satisfaction in Raven’s eyes, fixated on Lexa, is any indication.

The first words out of her mouth are not what Clarke expects.

“Blood must have blood. It is what we have been taught. It is what, I am sure of it, you must feel in the wake of the events of Mount Weather.” A few murmurs of approval run through the crowd. “I cannot fault you for it.” She’s pacing now, looking down at the ground. “But we must break that cycle.  And I ask of you today that you be willing to take the first step. Your leaders and I have made an alliance, but it will not hold if you are intent on revenge.” Another wave, of whispered dissent this time. “Your people have taught me much.” She glances at Clarke and Raven for a moment, before continuing. “Above all, compassion, and forgiveness. I can only stand here today in the hopes that you will exercise those qualities once more and let our two people unite in peace.”

“Why didn’t you take the first step?” A voice yells out from the crowd, drawing a few echoes of agreement.

Lexa inhales deeply, setting her eyes in the direction of the voice. “What I did in Mount Weather, reprehensible as you might find it, was to protect my people.” Her tone gets harsher at the end of her sentence, but she composes herself before resuming. “If you were to attack us now, it would be an act of war, with no other purpose than to harm us. We would have no choice but to defend ourselves.”

The man doesn’t offer a response, and Lexa takes it as a cue to continue. “With this alliance, you will find our doors open to you, at any moment in time. You will remain free to do as you please, but any member of Skaikru that wishes to join us in Polis will be welcome.” Clarke doesn’t miss the look Lexa throws Raven as she utters those last words.

A tense silence follows, until Clarke’s mother join Lexa on the stage.

“Listen up, people,” she intervenes. “I know some of you are angry at the Grounders’ past actions. But we all want the same thing. We all want peace, and this is the closest we have gotten to it yet.” She pauses, looking at Clarke before she says her next words. “Some of our members most affected by Lexa’s actions have already gone a long way toward forgiveness,” she says. “We should strive to follow in their footsteps, not erase the work that they have done. I ask all of you to join me, not only in this alliance, but in welcoming Lexa’s people into our lives just as they are offering to do with us.”

There is no reaction at first, and Clarke sees the tension in Lexa surge back to the surface, but Raven starts clapping on her left, and she follows suit, and they are soon joined by the rest of the crowd. When the applause starts to wane, Clarke’s mother ushers Lexa off the podium, walking back to where Clarke and Raven are standing, and a small smile has eased the tense lines of Lexa’s face.

“Lexa,” Raven comes up to her, before glancing at Clarke’s mom, “Uh, Commander. May I talk to you? In private,” she adds, her eyes shifting from Lexa to the ground, back to Lexa again. Lexa nods hesitantly, giving Clarke and her mother a brief smile before following after Raven.

The assembly over, people have started to walk back to their posts, to their homes, and the familiar rumble of day life at camp picks up again. Clarke takes it in for the first time since she arrived back at Camp, breathes deeply as the possibility of peace rushes in after so many months of fight.


	7. Chapter 7

“That was a good speech,” Raven says, trying to ease some of the tension that is permeating the room.

Lexa is still standing as she was on that podium, all straight lines and confidence. Raven notices her eyes even more, like this, the flat, emotionless surface of her irises taking on a depth she has only seen in moments of vulnerability. It makes Raven forget about the rest, about the armor and the war paint, about the undeniably commanding bearing, all that stripped away by the swirl of emotions Raven finds in the eyes looking straight at her.

“Thank you,” Lexa answers after what feels like minutes. “I did only what was necessary.”

“Necessary?”

“To protect my people,” Lexa says, and Raven can’t help but smile at the predictable response. “To protect _our_ people, if all goes well,” she adds, tilting her head in thought.

Raven doesn’t let the words hang in the air this time, steps closer before she can stop herself from saying what’s been going through her mind. “Did you mean it? Earlier, what you said about Clarke and me.”

The imposing lines of Lexa’s shoulders soften visibly at the words, and Raven can almost see her pupils expanding. “I did,” she affirms. “I would no sooner lie to you than betray your trust.”

“Both of us?” Raven asks, watching Lexa’s hands as they come up to the strap of her shoulder armor. Her fingers toy with the clasp as she nods.

“Your heart is strong, Raven,” Lexa says, pressing hard enough on the clasp for it to release. “I did not… expect kindness from you,” she takes off her shoulder piece, dropping it carefully behind her. “It meant more than you could imagine.”

Lexa exhales shakily when Raven turns around and walks a few paces further into the room. Her eyes are closed when, after a few moments, Raven lifts her chin with tentative fingers. She flinches, at first, until she sees the rag in her hand, and Raven raises her eyebrows silently asking for permission.

Lexa nods. “Thank you,” she whispers, closing her eyes again when Raven starts wiping off her war paint. As the pale skin starts to appear underneath, Raven gets lost in the motion, her eyes roaming over Lexa’s face without restraint.

“I didn’t want to forgive you, you know,” she says, rubbing delicately under Lexa’s eyes. The corners of Lexa’s mouth lift, barely enough for Raven to see it.

“Your compassion is admirable,” she says, “and as I have come to find out, it does not weaken you in any way.” Raven’s hand falters against her cheekbone, smudging the paint down her cheek as she lowers it.

“Stop talking,” she says.

Lexa opens her eyes, stares into Raven’s with an intensity that makes Raven’s mouth go dry.

“I apologize,” Lexa says, leaning back an inch. “I did not mean to overstep.”

Raven reaches out her hand before Lexa can get any further away from her. “You’re making it really difficult.” She uses her thumb to clean the smudge she left earlier, a pointless gesture considering her face is still covered in fading shades of black.

“Difficult?” Lexa asks, and Raven watches the motion in her throat when she swallows.

Instead of an answer, Raven leans forward, her hands grabbing hold of Lexa’s face. The kiss is short, but the electricity that runs through Raven’s body the moment their lips touch has her eyes tightly shut even after they part.

“Not to do that,” she breathes out, letting her hands fall back to her side.

When she looks at Lexa again, her fingers are grazing her lips, her eyes fixed somewhere on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I know you and Clarke-” Raven stops talking when Lexa snaps out of her trance, looking straight at her. Her eyes are darker than before, and Raven feels an invisible string pulling at her gut, drawing her closer.

“I thought I had my affections quite clear,” Lexa says, tilting her head to the side. “As did Clarke.”

“It’s not the same,” Raven says, a self-deprecating smile stretching her lips against her will.

“It does not need to be the same to be significant,” Lexa replies.

Raven laughs, and it sounds too harsh to her own ears, against the soft melody of Lexa’s voice still dancing in the air. “You would choose each other every time.” 

“There is no choice to be made.”

On the last word, the dissonant notes of her Commander voice ring through, a desperate edge that breaks through Raven’s inner voice. The remaining streaks of paint still stain her face in a strange echo of the stoic persona melting under Raven’s stare.

“I cannot speak on Clarke’s behalf,” she continues, letting her voice drop back to a soothing tone, barely above a whisper, “but I have spent too long stuck on a wrong conception of strength to let go of the people who have showed me true strength.” She pauses, her brow furrowing, looking pointedly into Raven’s eyes. “Any of those people.”

Raven feels that tug again, harder to ignore, and her feet bring her to Lexa, and her hands shake until they settle on Lexa’s face once more. Lexa’s fingers are cold when they come up to rest against Raven’s, but she forgets about it when Lexa leans forward, forgets every reservation plaguing her mind. She feels the spark when their lips connect, but this time, she loses herself into the kiss, feels the current running through her turn to molten heat as Lexa’s arms encircle her waist, pulling her closer.

One of her hands slides to the back of Lexa’s neck, and her nails dig in a little too hard, eliciting a soft gasp from Lexa’s mouth. The sound ignites something within her, sets fire to the string desperately pulling her towards Lexa. She bites softly at her lower lip, drawing out a different sound, and she starts walking Lexa back toward her bed.

There is nothing but white noise filling her head, nothing but the feeling of Lexa’s hands mapping out her back and her lips infinitely soft against hers, until Lexa pulls away. It takes a moment for Raven to focus again, focus on the words coming out of Lexa’s mouth instead of the heaving of her chest, the redness of her lips, and the warmth of her hands below her collarbones, gently pushing her away.

“Clarke,” she says, lowering her eyes even as she sways closer to Raven again. “We should speak with her.” She meets Raven’s stare with a soft smile, a stark contrast to her darkened eyes. “As much as I would like to continue.”

Raven’s hands come up to where Lexa’s are, grabbing them gently to pull them way from her body. “You’re right.” She laughs, linking her fingers through Lexa’s. Her eyes drop to her lips. “We really should talk to her soon.”

 

***

 

As the night falls over Camp Jaha, and the stars start popping up against the clear sky, an increasingly familiar nervousness builds in Lexa’s stomach. They have not had a chance to talk with Clarke in private, and as people start retreating to their own homes, the moment to go back to Raven’s tent is approaching. Raven and her have been exchanging looks all evening, and despite the playful quality to Raven’s demeanor, Lexa feels restless.

Soon enough, as Lexa has been expecting – or dreading, both her head and heart are still unsure – Raven takes her by the hand, walks up to Clarke with determination, and the three of them head to Raven’s tent. Both girls are exchanging light hearted banter, and she sees Raven laughing, but Lexa doesn’t hear it over the sound of pounding in her chest.

When they get to the entrance, Lexa manages to focus enough to hear Clarke wishing them goodnight, and Raven looks over to Lexa with her eyebrows raised.

“Wait!” Lexa lets out, much louder than she had anticipated. She hears Raven stifling a laugh beside her, but it succeeds in grabbing Clarke’s attention. Her cheeks feel hot despite the breeze gently blowing strands of hair into her face. “Could you… come inside for a moment?”

Clarke glances at Raven, who nods in consent, and they follow Lexa inside.

Before they can even get settled, Clarke stops in her tracks, opening her mouth a couple of times before words eventually comes out. “I kissed Lexa in Polis.” She says it in a rush, like she doesn’t want anyone to hear. “Right before we came back here.”

Lexa’s heartbeat picks up again. She feels exposed, caught between confessions that seem out of her hands.

“Oh,” Raven says, but her face doesn’t fall like Lexa expects it too. “Well, um.” She looks over at Lexa, who is still rooted in place, trying her best to stay composed. “I kind of kissed her too. Not… in Polis, though.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “Here. Yesterday.”

“You guys kissed.” It’s a statement more than it is a question, but Lexa feels herself nodding anyway. Clarke comes closer, looking between the two of them. “How was it?”

Raven looks as taken aback as Lexa feels, and it gives her enough courage to respond. “Good.” Her voice is rough, and both Raven and Clarke are staring at her with darkened eyes.

“Too short, though.” Raven tilts her head, a hint of a smile on her lips, and Lexa swallows through the dryness of her throat.

“What stopped you?” Clarke asks.

“You,” Raven answers. “Lexa didn’t want to do anything before talking to you.”

The both of them are looking at her with a mix of affection and hunger that Lexa has never seen before, and it makes her blood boil, rise to her cheeks, makes her breathing grow shallow.

“Is that true?” Clarke asks her, smiling unabashedly now, as her and Raven get closer, standing in front of her before she can register their moving.

Lexa nods, her feet firmly rooted to the floor.

“I’m here now.” Clarke states, raising her eyebrows at Raven in a silent challenge.

“Are you asking me to kiss Lexa again?”

Clarke looks over at her briefly, that maddening smile still stretching her lips. “If she’s okay with that.”

Lexa nods, too quickly. Clarke chuckles. “Yeah, I thought so.”

With one last look at Clarke, Raven takes her hand, and places it on her hip. Her own hand on Lexa’s cheek is warm, even against the blood pooling right beneath her skin. Lexa feels her lips parting right before they touch Raven’s, and she lets out a whimper when they do, embarrassingly loud in the heavy silence that’s settled over them.

There is no desperation this time. The kiss is slow, too slow, and Lexa feels like every nerve ending in her body has been set aflame – Clarke’s eyes on them doing nothing to lessen the sensation.

She barely registers one of Raven’s hands leaving her body to grab Clarke. What she does feel, however, is Clarke’s hand coming to replace it against her lower back, making her arch further into Raven’s body.

At that, Raven breaks away to look at Clarke, and Lexa has to silence a whine at the loss of contact.

“You can’t help taking the lead, can you?” Raven asks, smile tugging at her lips, her left hand still gripping Lexa’s hip.

“Would you rather I keep my hands to myself?” Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“Maybe you need to learn about self-control, Griffin.” Lexa feels Raven’s hand clench.

“I have plenty of-”

The last words of Clarke’s sentence get muffled into Lexa’s mouth, drawing a surprised sound out of her, but Clarke doesn’t waste any time tugging Lexa against her. “Looks like Lexa doesn’t want that,” Raven jokes, somewhere to her right. Groaning softly, Lexa shoves Clarke away a few inches to drag Raven back into her, kissing away the smug look on her face.

When she breaks away, she finds both of them looking at her intently, cheeks flushed and chests visibly rising. They’ve stopped talking, at last, and the reality of the situation dawns on Lexa. Her hands shake when she reaches for them.

She doesn’t need to wait, this time, and Clarke is brushing strands of hair away from her neck before she can complain about their bickering. She kisses her way up to her ear, whispering an apology that makes Lexa forget what she needs to apologize for. Raven is staring at them, still, until she starts slowly walking backwards, sliding her hand to Lexa’s wrist to tug her along.

In a smooth motion that would have made Lexa swell with pride at any other given moment, Raven has Lexa straddling her hips as she sits on the bed. Lexa feels her hands settled against her hips, warm and confident, and seconds later, she feels Clarke kneeling down behind her, resting her chin on Lexa’s shoulder.

Raven leans up to capture Clarke’s lips, slow and teasing, and Lexa has to hold back a whimper at the sight. Raven’s hands tighten at her sides, pressing hard enough that Lexa can’t stop her hips from shifting on Raven’s lap. Tugging at Clarke’s bottom lip with her teeth, Raven breaks away from the kiss to focus on Lexa once more.

Clarke presses her lips against Lexa’s shoulder, a tender gesture that brings back the lump in Lexa’s throat. She tugs at her top, silently asking for permission to remove it, and Lexa answers the request by grabbing onto the material herself and dragging it over her head. She revels in the sharp intake of breath that comes from both sides and places her back in control for a short moment. Raven’s hand drags down the front of her stomach, raking her nails a little too hard against Lexa’s toned muscles, and the contrasting sensation of her fingers and Clarke’s softly tracing the markings on her back has her bucking her hips again.

At that Raven’s eyes snap back to her own, bright and hungry, with the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smile pulling at her lips. Lexa needs to kiss her again. She hears herself moan into Raven’s mouth when Clarke presses her lips to her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly sinking in her teeth. The heat in the pit of her stomach grows even hotter when Clarke’s hands come up her back to untie the garment covering her chest.

Her head drops back against Clarke’s shoulder, tearing her away from Raven’s mouth, but Raven only lowers her lips to Lexa’s throat, tracing the ridges with her tongue. When the last piece of fabric on Lexa’s upper body is removed by Clarke’s hands, she feels both sets of eyes settle on her. Lexa isn’t used to this kind of attention, and her neck and chest flush red with a mix of self-consciousness and satisfaction.

“Who know all we needed to break the Commander was this?” Raven mumbles, and Clarke lets out a breathy laugh.

Lexa averts her eyes, feeling a trace of shame that is quickly replaced by overwhelming affection as Raven’s eyes are still fixed on her chest, hands at home on her hips, while Clarke’s fingers have started trailing up her body in an almost reverent pattern.

When she reaches Lexa’s chest, Clarke murmurs a _beautiful_ against her shoulder, lets action serve her words as she settles one hand against Lexa’s chest, bringing the other up to circle her throat. She pulls Lexa’s face toward hers, searching her eyes with her own darkened ones before bringing their lips together. This time Clarke is the one that lets out a desperate sound, gripping tighter around Lexa’s neck, and Raven lets out a swear around an incredulous laugh.

When Clarke releases her, Lexa can’t help but melt back into her body, the rasp of her shirt against Lexa’s over-sensitized back only making her more aware of her vulnerable state.

“Can I?” Raven asks, her hands pulling on the laces at the front of her pants and dragging Lexa’s attention back to her. Her voice is lower than Lexa has ever heard it, and she nods, bringing one hand to tangle in Raven’s hair.

“Please,” she breathes.

Raven goes slow, too slow for Lexa who feels like her entire body is shaking with unfulfilled need. She’s never felt like this, this nerve-racking blend of helplessness and abandon, of knowing her future rests in hands other than her own.

When Raven finally finishes untying the laces, she slips one hand inside Lexa’s pants, between her legs, and the breath all three of them were holding comes out shaky, turns into a drawn out moan from Lexa when Raven starts moving.

It doesn’t take long for skilled fingers to bring her to the brink of release, and when one of Clarke’s hand slips down from her chest to join Raven’s between her legs, and her lips near Lexa’s ear whisper words of encouragement, she falls apart. The sound that comes out of her seems foreign to her own ears, and it feels like forever before she stops shaking against Clarke’s body.

“That was…” Raven lets her sentence trail off, failing to catch her breath.

“Yeah,” Clarke echoes, “it was.”

Lexa feels the warmth of approval bloom in her chest. “Thank you,” she says, pulling away from Clarke’s body to stand up straighter.

The laughter brings back the heat to her cheeks. “Are you thanking us for getting you off, Lexa?” Raven’s mocking tone is undercut by her eyes still roaming over Lexa’s upper body.

Clarke joins in with the teasing. “Is that what your _people_ do?”

Lexa considers backtracking for a second, but instead she meets Raven’s eyes with renewed confidence. Her hands slip under Raven’s red jacket, pushing it off until it drops behind her back. She takes a moment to admire the attractive curves of Raven’s now bared shoulders before standing up. Their attention is solely on Lexa, and there is an undeniable rush to it.

“We do believe in repaying our dues.”

 

***

 

Raven is asleep between them, her back to Clarke, a peaceful expression on her face that brings Clarke a similar sense of tranquility. She trails her fingers over her arms, aware of Lexa’s eyes following the motion. There are bruises peppered across Lexa’s chest and neck, her hair a mess of untamed waves. Clarke reaches out a hand to trace a particularly bright scratch mark, going all the way from the back of her neck to the drip of her collarbone.

“Raven didn’t go easy on you,” Clarke says, not even trying to suppress her smile.

“I don’t mind,” Lexa answers, grabbing Clarke’s hand. She intertwines their fingers, resting them on top of Raven’s sleeping body.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Clarke laughs.

Lexa does too, unfettered, her eyes lighting up, and it causes Clarke’s breath to catch in her throat. “I’ve never heard you laugh before,” she whispers, squeezing Lexa’s hand in an involuntary act of reassurance.

Lexa lowers her eyes, but there is no shame to it. “Laughter is not common currency in my world.”

The knot in Clarke’s throat eases when Raven starts mumbling incoherent words in her sleep. “Maybe we can change that,” she says, rubbing her thumb against Lexa’s bottom lip.

“You already have,” Lexa states with an honesty that takes Clarke by surprise. She can’t help leaning over, replacing her finger with her lips, running her tongue over the same path. Lexa makes a soft approving noise, but it’s drowned out by Raven’s groaning.

“Could you guys be in love more quietly,” she mumbles into Lexa’s shoulder, reaching for the hands on her hips nonetheless.

“I apologize,” Lexa says, the endeared smile on her face contradicting her words.

“We were just talking about your propensity for marking,” Clarke says, pressing a finger to one of the darker spots on Lexa’s chest, delighting in the fact that Lexa’s breath hitches noticeably.

She groans, turning to lay on her back. “It’s not like you guys didn’t enjoy it.” Her grin manages to be smug even with her eyes still closed.

“You were the one throwing incoherent threats at us so we wouldn’t stop,” Clarke replies, nudging Raven’s leg with her knee.

“Whatever, like you guys could keep your hands off this body.” Raven motions half-heartedly and Lexa laughs again, even brighter than before. Raven’s eyes open at the melodic sound. She stares at Lexa like she wants to find new ways to cause that reaction over and over again.

“And, hey, what can I say, I like Lexa’s hands a lot more when they’re not trying to disfigure me,” Raven jokes, tracing the length of Lexa’s fingers with her own.

“I’m not sure I agree,” Clarke

At that, Lexa pipes up. “You enjoy us fighting?”

Clarke can’t contain her laughter at the confused look on Lexa’s face. “It has its… appeal.” She runs her fingers down Lexa’s arm, doesn’t bother with Raven’s when she takes in the smile on her face, even more self-satisfied than earlier.

“She thinks we look hot,” Raven intervenes. Clarke swats at her arm but it doesn’t alter Raven’s expression.

“Hot?”

“Attractive, gorgeous, irresistible,” Raven answers, making Clarke groan. She pushes Raven’s face to the side, into the pillow, but she can’t stop Raven’s laughter. It’s contagious, has all three of them smiling without restraint.

“Now that that’s established, could we go back to sleep?” Raven turns back on her side, facing Lexa, whose hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from Raven’s eyes.

Clarke scoots closer to Raven’s back, throwing one arm over her waist and resting her hand on Lexa’s side. She pulls on Lexa’s hip when she notices the hesitation in her eyes, bringing her tight against the two of them.

“Thank you.” The words are whispered, and almost go unheard by Clarke, but Raven’s hand is already linking with Lexa’s in silent acknowledgement.

When Clarke finally falls asleep, it is to the sound of their even breathing mingling together in the quiet of the night.

 

***

 

Clarke tells her mother first. Raven and Lexa go with her, stand to the side as Clarke announces that she’s going to Polis. Most of their conversation is lost on their ears, but Abby smiles through it all, glances at them before hugging Clarke tight to her chest. Abby is coming too, as their chancellor, but it is unsure yet if she will stay in the city or come back to camp afterward. They are all leaving the next morning, and the goodbyes around Camp Jaha have already started.

Raven doesn’t need to ask to know that Octavia is joining them, joining Lincoln as he finally returns to his home in Polis. That night, among the nervous buzzing that’s overtaken everyone, Raven finds her sitting on a fallen tree, sharpening her knife.

“Still doing that?” She asks, nodding to the blade.

“You never know what might happen.”

She leans into Raven when she sits down next to her. A comfortable silence settles over them, the sound of blade against rock soothing among the rumble of surrounding voices.

“So you and Lexa,” Octavia asks, a teasing lilt in her voice. “And Clarke,” she adds, turning her head to look at Raven. “Although I have to say I’m less surprised about that.”

“Yeah,” Raven trails off, looking at the ground. “It just sort of happened.”

“Sort of, huh?” She deposits the knife next to her, dropping the rock on the ground. “Well I was right, you don’t waste any time.”

“Shut up,” Raven says through a laugh.

“As long as you’re happy.” Octavia drops her hand on Raven’s leg, the one not encased in her brace.

“Getting there,” Raven answers, feeling an irrepressible smile forming on her face.

“That’s good because I don’t think I want to have to kick their asses anytime soon.”

Raven feels the laughter bubbling up in her chest, and she rests her head on Octavia’s shoulder as she grabs the hand on her leg, savors the warmth that has taken root in her chest   as of late.

It’s the same feeling that she gets when they arrive at Polis, to a welcoming banquet and the sounds of festivities all around the city. It doesn’t take long for Sky People and grounders to start enjoying, timidly, at first, each other’s company. Raven is greeted by a warm hug from Maks, and a promise to go see her the next day. Octavia and Lincoln are already engaged in a heated discussion with two other grounders, of which Raven only understands a few words. Kane and Indra are engrossed in what looks like a one way cultural exchange, under Abby’s amused stare. Bellamy has been kidnaped by a swarm of children, but his face shows anything but displeasure. He’s sitting on the ground with them, and they seem to be utterly entranced by whatever he’s saying. To her left, she sees that Monty and Miller have been roped into some alternate multiplayer version of chess.

It should feel strange, this sharp contrast with their conflictual past, but all Raven feels is peace, and a sense of comfort she’s loath to think short lived.

It carries over throughout the banquet, and after, when the atmosphere has quieted down and the temperature dropped to a pleasant chill, she sits in the grass with Clarke and Lexa to look up at the stars once more.

“Here we are again,” Clarke says, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Last time went pretty well, if I remember correctly,” Raven jokes.

They sit in silence for a long time, end up lying down on their backs when Raven, one hand on each girl’s shoulder, draws them down with her as she leans back. Most people have headed back to their homes, sleeping arrangements for newcomers decided during dinner, and still, the three of them remain there.

Lexa is the one to break the silence. “My people look to the stars as omens of the past and of the future.” She pauses, the desperate rush too often present in her declarations to them completely dissipated. “Not in a spiritual way, per say, but as a reminder that they were here before us, and will be there long after all of us are gone. After all of this is gone.” She absentmindedly tears out a few blades of grass.

“I like that,” Raven breathes.

“You both fell from the stars.” There is a reverence in her voice that makes Raven’s chest feel tight, has her grabbing for Clarke’s hand just inches to her left.

“Changed my future,” she continues, voice nothing more than a whisper, barely intelligible through the soft hissing of the wind. Clarke’s grip tightens on her hand, and Raven turns her head just enough to see the tear trailing from her eye toward the ground. She reaches for Lexa’s, on her right, desperate yearning for that simple contact overtaking her.

She brings both hands to her chest, Clarke’s and Lexa’s, and she feels their fingers stretch out to meet each other. Her heart feels steady under them, but she knows they can feel the pounding beat right below, just as she hears their even breathing. It’s quiet, and almost too perfect for them.

In that moment, however, under the blanket of stars that seems to have bound the threads of their lives into one, she can’t bring herself to care.


End file.
